The Lion Tamer
by Lilentorio
Summary: Intrigue galore. Bella's life has been a mess every since she was fourteen, when her sweetheart turned her world inside out. Now enrolled at Laboutier Academy of Performing Arts, at age eighteen, she feels life is getting better. Until news arrives: that he's finally out of juvie, and coming back to school. All human, AU.
1. Going Under

**Name: The Lion Tamer**

**Rating: T **

**Characters/pairings: Bella, Edward.**

**Author: Lile**

**Genre: Angst, romance, suspense**, **hurt/comfort...psh.**

**Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside-down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trams is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to realise how deep it cuts.**

**Any warnings: This isn't really "light" and characters will do bad things, but I am a firm believer in happy endings. I will try to be respectful with the subject matter, so I'm sorry if any of it offends ):**

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

**A/N: A whole new story...begins! I hope you enjoy it d(^_^)b**

* * *

Today is a Tuesday, one of the worst days of the week. It's the day for my counsellor appointment- and not coincidentally, the day when I feel the worst. I'm usually good at hiding it in front of people, but Alice can tell something is off.

But I'm grateful.

Really.

I need one hour a week where I can admit to the universe that I'm still as pathetic as I was when I was fourteen, so that for the rest of the time I can try to build myself up. The Laboutier Academy of Performing Arts is a place that certainly helps with that. I've made friends here, I've grown.

I'm normal.

* * *

"Describe your boyfriend in three words."

The counsellor smiles at me, letting the pause stretch out into an uncomfortable silence. I'm not sure what to say. How can I reduce a human being into adjectives? Especially someone like Mike.

"He's...nice," I fumble with language. You'd think someone with top scores in English would be able to speak more eloquently, but then you'd have to meet me. Bella, the girl who crumbles under pressure. I'm weak and pathetic and that's why I need to go to these sessions. It's not like I can talk to Charlie.

The counsellor raises her eyebrows, her mouth lipstick-locked.

I struggle on, hating how dry my throat feels. "He's always there for me. That's something I appreciate a lot. Charlie likes him."

Charlie hated Edward.

The counsellor nods. I search my memory wildly for her name. Mrs. Parsons. My hands feel numb, and I brush my shirt front straight, trying to stretch out my knuckles, stiff from being clenched.

"Well, I think its great that you're making progress." She crosses her legs. Her voice becomes delicate. "I arranged this meeting to tell you that today is the day."

My stomach drops. "He's out of juvie?" The words run into each other so fast I'm scared she won't understand and I'll have to say it again. Her pause makes my throat tighten. "He's coming back to Laboutier?"

Mrs. Parson smiles and raises her hands. The room feels small and stuffy, the clouds in the sky in league with the walls as they try to push me in. "Bella, you're safe. If he comes into the same room as you, or tries to contact you in any way, he is liable to be taken back into a detention centre. If you feel targeted at all, you only need to tell me, or your father, and we'll take care of it. You are the top priority, and so long as I'm here he won't lay a finger on you." Her voice is strong. Determined. "Bella, you are safe. This might even help you get stronger faster, once you realize that we are one hundred percent behind you and that he can't hurt you, even without bars in the way. Alright?"

I massage my knees. They're all bony and weird. I don't like my legs. White little sticks, really, is all they are. I should eat more. Alice likes my cooking, anyhow, so widening my recipe base will be good for everyone.

"Bella?"

"Yes?" I smile at her and the strong hand of panic grabs my heart and I burst into tears.

* * *

The news is around the school like a wildfire. Edward Cullen is getting out of juvie.

No one really knows what happened apart from the police and my councellor. They let me have some privacy, and it turned out I never told anyone the truth about what happened. Because then people would understand how it was all my fault. How could I stand them looking at me and seeing the weakling I am? How gullible I am?

As gullible as the rest of the world.

The school only took him in because of the way he could sing. And I have to admit, I can understand them- watching him perform is the closest you can get to a man emotionally disembowelling himself on stage for you. You feel tears when he wants you to. Shivers. His kind of talent excuses a bit of madness.

But not a mountain of it, surely?

His family kept his crime out of the newspapers. I can't imagine how much money that took, all the bribing. The Cullens are rich- because Carlisle Cullen is a world-renowned surgeon, and his wife has her own landscape gardening company. Their net worth is near a billion.

I don't bear a grudge towards them. I understand that not being able to have kids must have been pretty hard, and I know that Edward can be charming when he wants to.

I get why they adopted him.

And it scares me, but I have to be strong. He can't catch me out this time. He can't.

I won't let him.


	2. Falling to Pieces

**Name: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

**Genre: Angst, suspense, romance, hurt/comfort.**

**Author's Note: Here's chapter two! I decided to keep it going! **

* * *

After the appointment with Mrs. Parsons, I'm in free time. Laboutier has a strict schedule. We wake up at six, have breakfast at six thirty five, and start our first lesson at seven. Each class is an hour and a half long, so we have three lessons before a break at eleven, two before an hour lunch break at one pm, and two more before the official end of the day at four in the afternoon. After that, there's revision sessions, catch-up, practise, and homework- which is mainly practice. Our "free" time turns into self-teaching.

My phone rings. I keep it in the inside pocket of my Academy blazer. Taking it out, I see Mike's name flashing on the screen, under a picture of his face I took once when he was asleep.

I press the phone to my ear. "Hey," I say, walking towards my locker. I need to pick up my Rubix cube. It's a toy that I've had for almost eight years- the last thing my mother ever gave me. She was good with puzzles, and games. She loved intricate stories, murder mysteries, new boyfriends.

Mike's voice is sharp and excited, his voice strained after a morning of unending exercise. He's a baritone opera singer, and an actor, and plays the cello. An overachiever, but it feels good to have someone that ambitious give me their time. He doesn't know much about my past, but enough to know that I have these meetings.

I mean, I told him. He didn't weasel it out of anyone or follow me or

-_calm down calm down_.

"Can you get down to E5?" Mike asks. He never starts with hello- says he doesn't consider phone conversations actual conversations.

But he's still talking to me, so he adds a 'please' after a beat.

"Okay," I pause, keeping the cell to my ear with my shoulder as I unlock my locker door. "What do you need me for?"

Mike laughs, a strange low-pitched giggle that gets cute if you listen to it enough. "My sanity? Your friend Alice is a mean critic. I'd also appreciate it if you played a little for us."

I stare at the contents of my locker. There's almost nothing in it- I've been using it for four years, but the only things inside are the Rubix cube, books, and some stationary. Alice's is filled with make-up, pictures of herself with friends. There's one magnet I got her when we were fifteen, too, a little glass thing that looks like a fairy mid-flight. It's still in perfect condition. She's proud of that.

My head is pounding.

My Rubix cube has been solved.

I left it in a complete mess this morning, so I could have a go at solving it before bed. Or maybe I forgot to mess it upethos morning? Tuesdays are always the days where I do silly little mistakes.

"Bella?" Mike's voice is tinny.

I blink back tears, staring at the cube.

I pick it up, feel the warmth emanating from it. It's been touched.

A drop rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away. My shoulders stiffen out, and the phone falls to the floor. I hear a crack as the screen takes the hit.

This is the kind of thing Edward would do. My fingers shake as I hold the cube, trying to keep cool. I can feel the resignation building already, helpless knowing tears building up in tepid acceptance.

This might not be Edward's doing. I could be losing my mind. Especially with the stress of today. I'm linking everything to him for no real reason, without proof. For all I know he hasn't even arrived at the school yet.

I slam the locker shut, heaving a deep breath, fear swarming inside.

_"Say my name" His lips brush against my neck, and I can almost feel his excited pulse bursting from under his skin. It feels strange, like a stranger pressing an arm around my shoulders. An insistent sigh escaped from his mouth, reaching my ears. I say nothing, but kiss him, loving the little defiances that let him know how aware I am of him. His wicked green eyes close, but I keep mine open, letting the lion in him breathe me in. I'm in control with him- hell, I always am. Edward Cullen is my boyfriend. We're a golden couple, with talents that match each other perfectly. No one can ever take that away. He deepens the kiss, and I let him take over, moving out breaths in time, wrapping his fingers around my wrists. My heart goes out of control, and I try to wrap my arms around his neck, but he keeps me pinned. Need is like a rope between us. I cant get enough of him. He's so strong- I love him so much that it hurts._

_My wrists hurt._

_"Edward," I pant against his lips. His eyes open, meeting my stare. Brown and green. He says we're like a tree together. Lion and lamb- though it's never certain who is which. We're so many things._

_"Sorry," he whispers, smiling, releasing me. He buries his nose in my hair, and I relax completely, enjoying the haven of his hugs. "I never want to let you go. I need-"_

"BELLA!"

The voice isn't tinny. It's right next to my ear. I look up and see Alice, her hand on her hip, glaring down at me. My head pounds.

I'm in the fetal position. "I thought you were with Mike." I get up slowly, realizing my hands are shaking like crazy. Adrenaline.

Alice bends down, then hands me my phone. "I offered to come get you after you stopped answering." She's scared. Her eyes are wide, and I take the phone avoiding her gaze.

"Um. And Mike?"

"He has Tyler playing for him until I bring you down. Are you...okay? What was that?" Alice crosses her arms over her torso. She doesn't play an instrument or perform- she's a costume designer. One of the best in the world, if I'm any judge. Which I'm not. I have one of the worst fashion senses on the planet, according to everyone.

I shrug. "I just...panicked. Exams are coming up soon. I think I need to eat more. I have really gross skinny legs. I should cook more. There's a recipe with squash and feta cheese that I want to test out soon."

She gives me a weird look, then pulls me into a giant hug, her little arms strong against my ribs. "You're going to do just fine," she whispers into my shoulder. "Okay? Just don't suddenly stop talking. It scares the crap out of me."

I hug her back, a pathetically grateful lump in my throat. I love my awesome best friend.

"I'm sorry, Alice," and I mean it.


	3. Familiar Taste Of Poison

On Tuesday nights, Edward croons in my dreams.

* * *

I like Wednesdays. They start with a wake-up call from my dad, who gets up when I do and talks so little that every phone conversation takes five minutes. I'm quiet too- my resemblance to my mother is dwarfed by the amount of personality I inherited from my father.

After a breakfast on a carefully laid out plate, I seek out Alice and feel guilty for not eating more than a couple of mouthfuls of granola. My Academy blazer has the sleeves turned up to the elbows, and I'm wearing a yellow tee and a pair of jeans with it. When I look in the mirror I think I'm kind of pretty today.

Alice isn't at our meet-up point morning.

It feels weird, but then I remember how she found me yesterday. Is she avoiding me? No, she's not the type. Jasper must be keeping her busy. Or maybe she's just late. I still have fifteen minutes before first lesson, so I sit on the bench outside the drama studios awkwardly and fiddle with my thumbs. I tug at my t-shirt. Maybe it's too bright. My hair looks flat. I'm too skinny to pull off bright colours. Why is there never time to eat?

Alice. My hands are shaking. She's breaking my routine. Why is she doing this? Where is she? Is she in danger?

I take out my phone and dial her number. The sun breaks out from behind a patch of clouds, blinding me as I wait.

"Hi! You've reached Alice's phone, leave a message!"

I turn it off. I never leave messages.

_Why did it take you so long to find me?_

Thats not fair. I'm not being fair. I didn't even know Alice when it happened. A wall of rage begins to teeter behind my heart, and I'm scared of it breaking, because I'm not sure what that anger masks.

Today would have been so much better if I'd worn a dark tee or spent more time enjoying breakfast. Why do I ruin everything for myself? Hot insecure tears blur my vision, and with the glare of the sun I can almost believe I'm lost again, in a maze of Edward's devising, blind and alone and _lost_.

Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run-

There. I finally thought his name. It feels taboo, now that he's out. Can he hear what I think? Can he sense it? My hands shake as I remember the tingles he brought out from my skin. Can he feel that too? Can he use that to get me?

A part of me watches on silently as I break apart on the bench. To an onlooker, I look deep in thought, as if I'm absorbed in another world. It's the part that loves being anonymous. The rational Bella. It reminds me I have five minutes to build myself back together before I have to go to piano, and then violin, and then History of Music.

_I shake and shake in front of her grave as they wait for me to say some final words. My throat closes. I don't want her to see me cry. I don't want Charlie to cry again. _

_In loving memory of Renee Dyer. Those words. Iscant bear bear them. Charlie puts a hand on my shoulder. I'm eleven, old enough to try and be steadfast and reliable. And somewhere in the crowd, I catch my first glimpse of him; like a burning terraccota boy, his eyes soft and understanding. _

_He's a burning image of solitary beauty in a world of black and grey._

_I find the strength to wish her goodbye in his eyes, and I know he's special. An angel. _

_He stands beside Carlisle Cullen and Emmett Cullen and Esme Cullen, on the opposite side of the grave. Then I realise I'm not the only one looking at him._

_Everyone stares at the boy who can bring peace into my mind. He casts his gaze down, and begins to sing, long notes that linger in the darkness of his throat, like honey._

_Its a hymn._

_I feel as if he understands. Deep in the safety of my father's coat and this angel-boy's words, I feel less alone in the grief._

_I love him for saving me. For honouring her. For everything._

My eyes sting. I need to re-learn how to breath. The detached part of me laughs, and I wish I could be numb like her. My arms push me up, and my legs walk me back into the building so that I can get to my class before the bell goes. Bella Always Beats The Bell.

Charlie's brief words only half an hour ago swarm in my head. I concentrate of the gruff notes of his voice as he speaks. He's getting more and more growly as he ages. Sometimes I miss living with him; I miss the three years I spent getting to know the Black family on the Rez. And I loved watching Charlie finally get the courage to ask Sue Clearwater on a date. I didn't resent him for it; he and my mother had been married briefly, for a year, as long as it took to have a honeymoon and for me to be born. After that, he was alone, and seeing him happy was a relief.

_I left you so many clues. Why didn't anyone find me in time?_

The door to the piano room is locked.

"Bella?" Mike's voice cuts through my head, and I'm surprised to see him standing there.

"Don't you have a role to rehearse?" I ask.

He rubs a hand through his hair. It's buzz-cut short, something I like about him. He looks nothing like Edward. His eyes are a strange hazel-blue, and I could stare at them for hours. "I do, but," he shrugs, wary of how close he can get to me without being told off by a member of staff. "Bella, are you happy with me?"

"What?" I don't expect this. Mike never asks questions about us. He's never curious about me. I love that. Why is he messing that up? What's wrong with him? What did I do wrong?

"I mean, you never look all that...enthusiastic, you know? I feel like that cheesy guy in the movies who always says I love you first." His cheeks colour. "Not- I mean. Bella, I can't talk straight when you look at me like that."

I try tugging the corners of my mouth down, but the relief doesn't go away. He sighs, wraps his arms around me in a loose hug. He smells like detergent and Lynx, and I lean up, give him a chaste kiss. "Sorry," I whisper, because I am. I always am. "I'm stressed out because of exams."

The tension leaves his shoulders. Something he can understand.

I realise he was scared it had something to do with my counsellor appointment.

For the first time, I wonder why he thinks I'm going to them. But I can't ask. Mike is my beacon of normality. A caring normality. He's a lovely, safe boy that presses a kiss under my ear and pulls away and doesn't ask questions, because sometimes he's as chicken as I am.

I lean in to kiss him the way he deserves, but the bell rings and the moment passes.


	4. Hysteria

**A/N:**

**The song Edward sings in this chapter is "Time is running out" by Muse, though the last two lines are from "Hysteria" (same band). Both songs were weirdly in tune with abella and Edward at certain points in their lives so I thought I could slot them in here. The lyrics are not my creation, not did I have anything to do with their creation (you may notice some errors; I had Edward tweak tiny little things in there).**

**Leave a review to let me know what you think. I'm interested in how you guys react to the story!**

**-Lile**

* * *

There's something very special about piano- about playing music in general. On one hand, it's all mathematics and remembering how your hands go, patterns and structures. But that is only the spine of it; the anatomy is different. When you play a piano for someone's voice...you're the background that they pour their heart over. If the voice is the heart, the music is always the soul.

So, I know it's him when he enters the room. My eyes are on the piano keys, on my still hands, on the open lid, but I know how he moves, and I hear Monsieur Baynard introducing him, and it's like falling and reaching a terminal velocity. I'm going down as fast as I ever can.

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Monsieur Baynard says impatiently. I strain my ears.

A silence.

I picture the room around me. The piano to the far right, facing the mirrored wall. The soft wooden floor, the other three walls covered in lemon-and-rose patterned wallpaper that peels slightly around the doorframe.

I hear a gasp, but it's not him. It's not him that gasps. It's Jessica, sitting on the wide window sill. For a moment, I'm in heaven. I imagine her pointing him out, her screechy voice telling him to get out.

"Do I recognise you from somewhere?" she asks. Her voice is slightly higher than usual. That means she's smiling. I don't look at the mirrored wall. Maybe he hasn't seen me.

My head is blank and calm.

I am not safe.

She lied to me.

I say nothing. He is so quiet, I never hear him. I can almost pretend I'm making him up.

But I can't stop crying. I'm so glad the piano faces away. I'm so glad the piano means they don't see my face in the mirror.

Im so glad I know how to cry and not make a sound.

I play for Jessica first. Her voice is thick and has a snarling edge, lacking finesse, but there's something in the raggedy-Anne urban quality of it which suits me just fine. My fingers keep finding notes, as I convince myself slowly that he's a hallucination.

Tyler Crowley next. I try to focus on his voice, but I can't focus. The keys slip and slide, and I have to grab them with my fingers, hitting them hard to try and keep them down. My arms shake. I keep playing. I have to keep playing.

Did I think this would never happen?

Its his turn.

Monsieur Baynard flips the sheet music booklet to another page, to something he would know so he can be assessed. I stare at the page.

I don't read it. I just play it. I feel him slide onto the piano stool behind me, the little space there is. A scream builds inside, but there is no way to release it. The length of his back flattens against mine, lean and hard and strong against my stick-thin shoulders, stick-thin hips.

_I think I'm drowning; asphyxiated_

_I want to break this spell that you've created_

_Youre something beautiful; a contradiction_

_I want to play the game, I want the friction._

I feel the vibrations of his voice through my ribs, my lungs, controlling my breathing until it feels so impossible I'm trying to swallow air. I wish that my shudders and shakes could do the same to him, but his tone never wavers. He doesn't miss a note.

Neither do I.

_You will be the death of me_

_Yeah you, will be the death of me_

_Bury it, I won't let you bury it_

_I won't let you smother it_

_I won't let you murder it_

_Our time is running out_

His voice gets lower, deeper, darker. It still sounds like melted chocolate. There's a husky raw edge to it that I've never heard before, an animalistic twang on certain words that makes my brain scream and cry.

What if I just stop? What could he do to me? I almost sob out loud, but somehow the silent pain gets driven through my fingers, the only way I can release this.

His scent fills my lungs, soaking inside my lungs. I almost feel that smell penetrating my pores, replacing my own scent with his own, erasing me. He smells like peppermint and expensive deodorant, with a hint of spice, something earthy and real as dirt.

_Our time is running out_

_You can't push it underground_

_It won't stop you screaming out_

_How did it come to this?_

How. How. HOW GOD OF YOU EXIST I AM BEGGING YOU TO JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE CAN'T BREATHE I CAN'T EVER STOP PLEASE STOP US STOP US BEFORE WE DO THIS AGAIN-

His shoulders soften against mine, leaning back, leaning in. Can he feel the difference, my spine, my shoulderblades? His skin is warm, but that's not why I break into a cold sweat.

The voice of an angel turns a little playful, singing words out with a recklessness that suits the new, alien edge of him.

_I wanted freedom, bound and restricted_

_I'm not breaking down, I'm breaking out_

_Last chance to lose control-_

He's using the wrong lines. This isn't the song. The piano jars as I hit the wrong chords, stop playing, almost catching my fingers in the lid as it slams down.

The bell rings. In the short silence that follows, I can feel the soft pulse of his skin before he stands up.

We're so well timed.

* * *

"YOU SAID HE'D NEVER BE IN THE SAME ROOM," I growl.

Mrs. Parsons gapes at her office. Papers strewn everywhere. Lamps and chairs overturned.

My hair is insane. My eyes probably look the same. She takes a step towards me as I take a step towards her computer.

"Bella, take a deep breath," she says. She puts her bag beside the door, raising her empty hands to me.

"You lied to me." I stare at her weathered face. The face of a monster.

Mrs. Parsons shakes her head. "Bella, please. Tell me what happened." Her voice is low and slow.

I shudder and try to tip over her desk. It doesn't budge. Nothing moves when I need it to. "He was there. YOU LIED HE WAS THERE AND HE WAS AGAINST ME AND I COULDNT STOP! YOU PROMISED CHARLIE YOU'D MAKE THIS ALL STOP!" My voice gets higher and higher. I'm hyperventilating. The world spins.

"...did he molest you?" she asks carefully.

My stomach turns. Why is that important? He was there. "Stop changing the subject. Why? Why didn't you warn me?"

"Bella," she swallows. "I'm really sorry. I didn't...I wasn't notified. I thought he was arriving on Monday, next week." Her hair sags, and there's something in her face that shows she's lying.

I stare at her. My skin feels cold. I feel so...pale. Transparent.

"Bella?" she gapes at me.

She's lying to me.

She knew he'd be here.

I'm not safe. I'm not safe.

I push past her, ignore her, walk out. The halls are empty, since im meant to be in the middle of a violin lesson. My face burns with heat, the rest of me freezing. My feet take me forward, but I don't know where. I have to keep going forward. My clothes feel as of they're sticking to me. I find my way to the showers, turning it on and bathing in ice water, stepping out and rubbing my hair, then my body, with the towel. I'm trying to get his smell off. Out. Can't.

I push the sopping towel against my face and try to scream into it until my throat feels red and ripped.

But I can't make a sound. I can't. My voice has been muted, broken off. There's nothing to say.

Naked, I try calling Alice. She doesn't pick up. Figured. Neither does Mike. I don't leave messages.

I stare at the mess I've made in the bathroom.

Clean it.

I need to get dressed. I tie the towel around me, pick up my clothes. I fold them all, place them over eachother in order of weight and size, and then carry them to my room. It takes an hour to cut those clothes along the seams, taking each piece of cloth, and then throwing that in the tiny bin in the corner of my dorm room. The yellow t-shirt takes the longest to cut up. Not because it's biggest. I just keep staring at it.

I decide not to cut up my school blazer. I can't afford another one. I'll just have to stick it in disinfectant overnight.

For once, the careful order of my cupboards is useful. I pull out underclothes, my next-best pair of jeans, a blue shirt, then put on my shoes.

I quit today. Until I find his schedule, I quit.

Its crazy. Irrational. It takes me a moment to get my head together. Where can I go? Alice? She shares with Jasper. Besides, her seeing me like this...? What..? What words can I use?

Mike.

I take a slow breath. Then try to wander over to his dorm, picking out the path he took me along a few months ago. I'll catch him on the way in.

* * *

"Oh, hey," Mike smiles at me when he sees me. "Didn't see you. How long have you been standing there?"

A long time. "Not sure."

He shrugs. Glances up and down, meeting my eyes. "So..?"

"Want to go somewhere?" I smile at him. Begging him.

Mike's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "Whoa. Sure, Bella." He walks towards me, each step measured and even.

His reaction stirs a wariness inside my gut, but this isn't the time to have a paranoid panic attack. As soon as he's close, I hold out my hand, and he takes it gladly. We walk for a little while, out of the beaten track, towards the stretch of apple trees the Academy keeps. They're ancient, or so I'm told. Much older than anyone I'll ever meet.

Mike stops when I do. He drops his bag, wraps his arms around my waist, and our mouths meet in the middle. This is our usual; safe.

And then my back is against one of those ancient trees, my fingers in his hair. I wonder if he'll ever be able to get out Edward's scent, to cleanse my skin.

I think carefully as Mike moans, patting my sides ineffectually. It can't have been more than four minutes of Edward against my back. My body shudders, remembering. My shoulders ended where his arms joined his body. His hair, brushing the back of mine.

"B-Bella," Mike hisses, excited, glad to get such an intense reaction as I tremble against the tree, wrapping my arms around him. His mouth is hot, and it moves to my neck, and I let him, because what if this is what I need? He kisses down my neck clumsily, fingers prodding my hip bones.

This isn't pure. It's nothing. It's greed on both sides.

Our lips clash again, hot tongue against hot tongue, his hands holding my hips. I run my fngertips down his back in straight lines.

"Oh my god." He undoes the top button of my shirt, fumbling several times.

I stare at him, transfixed, taking in the lust. He meets my gaze, panting hard. Impatient. His fingers goes to the second button, and I do nothing.

I can't smell Edward anymore.

"Mike..." I whisper, stroking his hair.

He kisses me chastely, his breath slowing, disappointment clouding his features.

I kiss him again, but it's different. He stays frozen for a moment, but then sighs, pulls his face away. I stare at him, shocked in the fading light.

He shakes his head. "You know what? Your idea of going slow is so goddamn slow I don't think we're going anywhere but backwards." His tone is a lot more hurt than either of us would like. My chest pounds with panic.

I need him. He can't leave. "Mike, I'm sorry. I just wanted some time with you, but I wasn't sure- I mean-"

"Did you get _raped_?" he yells. And there's fear in there. So much confusion. "Or am I just shit to you?" I stare at him. This isn't the Mike I know. He plows on. "All the fucking time it got to actually kissing you. All this- or are you really just not interested, I can't, I feel like such an asshole, Bella, what the hell are those goddamn counsellor sessions for, please, I can't do this, I have no idea what I can do anymore. It's like you speak a different language to when we were kids, it's like you changed. Can I..." his head falls, he runs his hand through those little-boy curls. "Tell me what I can do, Bella."

My heart feels as if it's cracking. "We both changed."

"...So is this it?" he asks blankly. His voice sounds funny, all rotten inside.

I shake my head. Reaching out carefully, I take hold of the sides of his t-shirt. I pull him in. I have to go on my tip-toes to reach his frozen lips. He slowly comes to life, but aI set the pace. I trace the lines of his shoulders, until one hand slips down, tracing the edge of his waistband.

His mouth opens, one hand sliding through my hair, unwilling to believe it. I try being tender, focusing entirely on him so that I don't have to focus on me. He smells like cloves. Spicy, airy. His hands don't move, still stuck on getting answers.

I know what he's waiting for. A groan. A moan. Anything to mark a real consent, a real participation. Proof. So when he tilts his head down, cupping my face, I taste him and let him hear a muffled sigh. It's as close as I think I can get.

His fingers leave my hair, and he pulls my shirt off.

I feel my breath going short.

He whispers my name, repeating it, quiet and incessant, but I stay silent, because Edward Cullen is branded in my brain, and if it's not his name I say, then it can't be any name at all.

* * *

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	5. Playing God

**Title: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**Rating: T (may change, probably not)**

**Characters/Pairings: Edward and Bella.**

**Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea. **

**Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

**Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone.**

**Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation.**

**Author's note: So! You guys have been waiting for a big reveal, right? Right? I hope you're ready for one... Just not the one you wanted.**

* * *

Mike pressed his lips to my forehead, and I feel his hands quake slightly when I give him a brief hug. He gives no touches in return, but I don't mind.

"Goodnight, Bella. I...," he pauses, smiles at me. "I'll see you tomorrow."

A shock of guilt stiffens my spine as I see the at-ease expression on his face. It feels as if I'm using him, and I hate that. The thought makes my stomach clench. Underneath the strange emotion, though, is a feeling of...relaxation. Resignation. I give him a close-lipped smile.

When I go back to my room, I pass by my locker, where a messed-up Rubix cube is waiting for me. I toss it between my hands, humming softly. The halls are quiet; most people are studying or asleep.

I decide to join the snoozers.

* * *

The light of spring is what wakes me the next morning, streams of it pooling lazily onto my face with the warmth of a kitten. I glance across the room to see Rosalie still sprawled in deep sleep, and glance at the alarm clock on my bed stand. Ten minutes until my alarm goes off.

I get out of bed and stretch, grimacing at a knot in my shoulder. I try to work it out slowly with one hand while searching for a hair brush. I achieve only in making my shoulder have a sharp shoot of pain, and stumble in surprise, tripping over my hairbrush and slamming my hip against Rosalie's yoga CD rack as I fall. The CDs spill out, a clattering mess of plastic cases.

I lay there for a moment, catching my breath. For a moment I csit picture Rosalie waking up and getting irritated at my clumsiness, but she justs shifts in the bed. Rose is a very heavy sleeper, and it takes her a long time to get up in the mornings. It's something I like about her, actually. There's more privacy in the mornings.

After getting changed and tidied up, I take one look at the gaunt face in the mirror and decide to go to breakfast. I don't end up eating much, as usual, but the routine of it is comforting, and the near-emptiness of the large room is perfect.

It's only when I return to the dorm to collect a sheet music booklet that I notice the note that has been slipped under the door for me. I recognise the wide, looping script- Mrs. Parson's handwriting.

_Bella,_

_You have a meeting in the Head Office at noon. _

_-K. Parson_

How...brief. I crumple the note up, dumping it into the trash can.

This is about Edward. A dull throb burns in my chest.

I think his name delicately. It occurs to me that I don't know what he looks like now, whether he has changed.

What could the meeting be about? Part of me wonders if it will be an apology for having to see him. Another, larger part is filled with suspicion. Why would this concern the headmaster? William "Billy" Black-Laboutier is not someone I'm familiar with at all. I have seen him a grand total of two times, once at a welcoming ceremony and once when he was with his son and I was supposed to be in class.

The meeting is at noon. I can't afford to miss it, given all the things that could be said, not least of all that they could expel me in favour of Edward being able to attend without any disturbance. His family is rich enough to be able to pull that.

I glance at the trash can, at the crumpled ball of paper. It sits like an innocent scrap.

Calmness is key. Under no circumstances can I appear hysterical or unbalanced in front the Headmaster. There's a risk that it could give Edward the upper hand if he can just say I'm crazy.

I imagine Mrs. Parson's note turning to ash in a flameless fire, and something about that disturbs me.

* * *

At a quarter to noon, I show my violin instructor the severly crumpled note, and she lets me off with a disgruntled sniff.

The halls are empty- everyone is in class. My throat begins to close up with panic as I get closer to the office. The door is one with a low handle, and I knock on it, so quiet I pray they don't hear so that I can leave.

Mrs. Parson opens the door wide, and past her I notice the headmaster behind his desk. I enter the room unsurely, looking around. A smooth tiled floor, and the paisley walls are decorated with photographs of the man's family, with paintings, with dreamcatchers and portraits of huskies that I spy curled up in front of the headmaster's lit fireplace. I'm usually nervous around dogs, but they don't stir as I enter.

Apart from the counsellor's and Mr. Black-Laboutier's chairs, there are three- one empty, one containing a grey-suited man only a few years older than I, and Carlisle Cullen.

He looks at me and I blanch, but his face is as kind as I remember it, though a lot more tired.

"Hey, Bella," the suited man says. His blonde hair has been trimmed and tamed, his jaw is stronger, and it takes me a moment to recognise him in contrast with the wild child I remember running around the Cullen house.

"Jasper...?" I whisper. I stay in the doorway. Jasper was the son of Carlisle's sister, Siobhan, who moved from Texas to be near the family after her husband divorced her, keeping custody of their daughter. Jasper Hale is Rosalie's twin.

But Rosalie was safe. She had never liked me -and probably still didn't- but we were...safe for each other. She kept an eye on me with a tenacious grip that bit more times than it comforted, and was a lot harsher than Alice, but she knew a little more than Alice did.

I'm still shocked to see him. Jasper's smile was like a scar, slicing his mouth into two, not the sweet tilting at the corners of his lips that I remembered.

Carlisle broke the silence. "Why don't you have a seat, Bella." His hair was as light as Jasper's.

It gave me chills, now.

_Edward curled his fingers through my hair, watching the dark curls as they slid through his fingers. "They look nothing like me."_

_I was tired, and missed the bite in his voice. I shrugged, looking across the Cullen porch. I leant my head back into his hand, liking the gentleness of his touch. Edward was a lot less_ _aggressive than most boys I knew. Quieter. Like me. "What do you mean?"_

_"I mean," he smiled, mimicking my sleep-accented voice. "That you look a lot more like me than my own family. Not that they're actually my family."_

_I tensed, this time noticing the bitterness. Edward had found out about his birth mother a month ago, and even a blind rat could tell how much it was hurting him. "Hey..." I wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to make his eyes meet mine. My movements were clumsy, awkward, but it felt comfortable to move around Edward. It didn't matter if I was uncoordinated- he always seemed to know when I needed steadying. His mouth tilted up, and I revelled in the way it made my heart jump. "They're your family. They love you, Edward."_

_But we both knew that had the gist of a lie. Edward's family was...complicated. From what I had learnt in the time we'd been friends, and then more, there was a lot more to the Cullens than what appeared. Esme and Carlisle had been married, but their first child had been stillborn. It had traumatised Esme- she hadn't been willing to try to have another child for a long time, but they both desperately wanted a family, so the only viable road was adoption. Edward had arrived in the family, but his arrival hadn't been anywhere neat perfect. The household still bore scars from the could-have-been baby, his room dedicated to a newborn, not his own five-year-old self. Esme would love him sporadically, abandoning and ignoring him for weeks on end when her own demons came back to haunt her. It had made him rely on Carlisle for stability, but Carlisle was a busy doctor who could only spare so much time for football games and family time. And even that was blown out of the water when Esme became pregnant. She wept for weeks before becoming determined to give this new child her full attention. Carlisle's main concern then was his wife and his own, blood-true child. Edward was a distraction, and then not even that- a shadow in the background. When Emmett was born, he had his mother's caramel curls, his father's blue eyes, and it became apparent that rusty-headed and green-eyed Edward didn't fit in with the rest of the family. Edward never said much about it, but he always seemed more happy having dinner with me and Charlie than he did when we hung out at his place._

_I brushed my hands through his hair, waiting for him to reply, but he just smiled, his eyes on the red gleams my mahogany hair gave off in the dimming sunlight._

"Bella," Carlisle repeated. His voice was sharper. The voice you would use to direct an unruly patient. "Have a seat."

I left the door open and sat in the empty seat beside Mrs. Parson, refusing to look at her. Jasper stood, moving to shut the door, and I noticed the briefcase beside his chair.

I glanced at the Headmaster, who was shooting daggers at Carlisle with his eyes. His mouth was set in a hard line, heightening the intimidating force of his coal-black eyes.

Jasper sat back down, brushing lint off his suit pants.

Carlisle turned his head to me, ignoring Mr. Black-Laboutier. "Edward has spent three years in juvenile detention. Or, more importantly, a Cullen family member was arrested. How does that make our family look?"

My eyes slide to Jasper, who stares impassively at the wall. Why is he here? Carlisle opens his mouth again, but Jasoer clears his throat, and the older man quietens. My brow furrows. I glance at Mrs. Parson, but she says nothing. She's not happy, but she's not saying anything. Fear clenches my stomach.

"Edward won't legally inherit the whole Cullen fortune," Jasper explains, his eyes meeting mine, "-but he will have control of a large amount. I won't bore you with the numbers, Bells, but rest assured, he will need to maintain careful image in order to not taint the Cullen reputation."

I grip the edge of my seat, but this isn't like watching a film, where the anticipation makes me want to see the end. I don't want to know more. Edward isn't part of my life anymore.

Jasper sighs, seeing me tense. "Bella, it's very simple. We need Edward to have a fresh start. This bad-boy image won't work in the real world of business." He smiles, as if it's an sick joke, and he knows it, but he can't stop himself from saying it.

I brush my hair behind my ear, lnching my hand as it shakes and bringing it back to my side. "So why are you here, Jazz?" I fake a smile.

He shrugs. "Just here for the paperwork," he says.

Mr. Black clears his throat, and all eyes are drawn to him. He catches my gaze. "Mr. Hale is Mr. Cullen's attorney," he states.

"Attorney?" I glance between them, confused. "Jazz, why do you need to be here?"

Jasper looks uncomfortable, and Carlisle sighs. "Bella, you are the only thing that stops Edward from going free to his position. You're his...hamartia." His fatal flaw. The reference to Greek literature irks me, somehow. "And the way to give him a clean slate, of course, is to make a public reconciliation with you."

That's it? I shake Edward's hand for some cameras and they leave me alone? I almost feel relieved. "Okay."

Carlisle gives me a small nod. "You were always a reasonable girl." He glances at Mr. Black. "When is the Volturi business?"

The Volturi Awards. A competition for the eldest year -my own- that can make or break their careers. The best go against the best. Laboutier trains all its students for it, and I've been practising intensely.

"Why?" I ask. It seems unrelated, a random question for him to ask.

Carlisle smiles, but it's Jasper who answers, in words as delicate as glass slippers. "It takes more than a simple meet-and-greet to heal Edward's image, Bella. However, the pair of you entering Volturi together would certainly...clear the air a little."

"No," I say. My heart stutters. No way. What on earth-? What?

"That's not an option, Bella," Carlisle shakes his head, firm. His eyes glitter with cold anger.

"But- what if I don't?" I can barely get the words out, my tone going flat and calm.

"I've looked into Laboutier's funds," Carlisle states, a ruthless pragmatic air to him now. I understand why he's such a good doctor. "Without a contribution from a generous sponsor, this establishment will be bankrupt before the year is out."

I stare at Mr. Black, who says nothing, his eyes darker and darker with something that he won't name. Anger that he has resorted to this? Self loathing?

It would break Charlie. It would ruin our year. All that work. If I don't say yes, I'll be expelled- and all the money saved for university would be useless. My career would be ruined before it even started. Esme Cullen has the right connections to ensure I'm never employed in my life. I can't even join another school so late, not now, not without missing Volturi. Not to mention Alice, if the school can't support itself. This would break Renee's heart.

I glance at Mrs. Parson, but this time my eyes focus on the clothes she's wearing. A crisp, new jacket. Maybe the meeting with Edward wasn't accidental. Maybe it was to see how much convincing I would need.

"You don't have to agree, Ms. Swan," Mr. Black says, quiet and calm.

But I haven't been left any choice.

I'm helpless, again, in the hold of the Cullens.

* * *

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	6. Back To Black

**Name: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**A/N: The title is a prediction of Bella at the end of the story, not her current predicament. I can't wait to see her roar.**

* * *

The days pass too quickly. The week blows out in a blink. On Monday I have a scheduled appointment with Edward, to rehearse.

I'm not sure what to do with myself in lessons. Usually, music is a solace, but there's nothing to it when I know I'll be starting from scratch with him as a partner. My teachers are at a mutter but I'm a scholarship student, and they know how hard I usually work, so the aimless drudgery I perform with is seen as just fatigue. Something I'll get over after the week end.

I don't know what to think.

On one hand, I can understand Carlisle- or rather, the cold, logical side that learns new sheet music in the blink of an eye doesn't find him difficult to read. He's an overworked man with guilt over the little time he spends with his family. Especially Edward. Maybe he even feels guilty.

I hate making everyone feel guilty. I'm a package no one wants to offend, but everyone wants to forget. It makes me feel like some strange family illness. Like a disgraceful cripple. Maybe that's what I am.

What am I saying? Of course I'm weak.

Most of the weekend, I avoid Mike. It's hard- he thinks we're closer than ever before- but at the same time, I've gotten to be good at invisibility.

My nerves build and build. Sunday evening, and I'm lying flat on my head, my forehead thumping with a headache too large to avoid a few painkillers. Fortunately, they're the drowsy kind, so I don't have too much trouble falling asleep.

Maybe this is the last proper sleep I'll have for years.

* * *

I'm woken up in the middle of the night by a furious Rosalie, shaking me by the shoulders.

"What are you doing?" I shout, pushing her hands away, heart thumping fast.

Her perfect blue eyes are scrunched in rage. She brushes her hands through her hair, drawing herself up to her full height beside my bed. She towers over me. "Bella," she says through gritted teeth. "I am so, so sorry. You don't have to meet him. God, my family..."

I stare at her blankly. "Meet someone..."

She watches my face as I remember. Presses her hand against my shoulder. "Bella? ...Bella?!"

I stare at her longer. The way shadows cut into her cheekbones in the dark. Darken her eyes. Make her blonde, blonde hair a shallow grey shade. Her resemblance to Jasper is unsettling. "Did you tell them about me?"

She glowers. "Excuse me?" her eyes flash dangerously, but her mouth twitches with sadness.

Mrs. Parson. Mr. Black. Can Rosalie stand against what they succumbed to?

"Rosalie Hale. Did you tell your family anything about me?" The trap was laid out so well. Was she part of it? I rub my face. "Please, Rose..."

I can't face them all. It strikes me once again how stupid I am. Did I think I could escape them, just little Bella Swan against the Cullen giant?

The mattress dents as Rosalie sits beside me in the bed. "No," she hisses, wrapping an arm around me. I tense, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care, keeping me in a tight grip. "Bella, if there's anything I can do, I'll do it. They can't get away with this. It's sick. My dad was right to divorce that crazy bitch and her family." She swears more, louder and longer, and then pushes me back against the pillow, absent-mindedly tucking me in. The bluntness of her voice and thoughts is soothing. A lot like Carlisle's mannerisms, but...no. Don't think that. She's nothing like him. She knows right from wrong.

"I'll be okay, Rose," I say, if only to stop her from burning a hole into the wall with her eyes. I'm too exhausted to fight. I'm a damsel in distress who's too tired to yell for help. And who would answer, anyway? Mike? Angela? Alice? No; I can't let them know.

I reach out and squeeze her hand. I hate the idea that they can affect her. That her mother, even after all these years, can upset her. A twinge of something rebellious sneaks into my head, but I extinguish it on sight, paralysed by the sudden idea that he might see.

Rose casts a glance down at our entwined hands, and says nothing.

She's angry because there's nothing to fight.

Nothing to do.

* * *

"So," Alice quips, bringing her elbow through mine. "You've been avoiding me." She's bright and cheerful today, but her tone still disappointed.

I stare at her, trying to will myself to tell her how I'm more scared now than I have been in four years. How can I tell her? Would she even believe me?

"I'm sorry," I manage. We're halfway to my usual classroom for mid-Monday. Practise session. Her class is near mine.

Alice huffs. "Beee-lla...I know when you're being weird. What's wrong? Ohigod, is it Mike?"

Mike. I smile at her, wide, a hung man's grin. "No. No, we're really good, actually. I'm sorry I haven't been around much."

Edward can only get so close if I have a boyfriend. Especially with his "image" to worry about. Alice blinks, then grins. "I sense something you've been hiding from me...did things finally move base?"

I shrug, non committed, letting her think that this new physical development with Mike has made me act differently.

And my grin lasts all the way until I go into the classroom, and I meet Edward Cullen's eyes.

* * *

**_Leave a review? This is a bit of a filler, sorry ):_**


	7. You Found Me

Edward sees me the moment I see him. We're synchronised; always; always.

He's sitting behind his desk, in the empty seat beside mine.

My grin dissolves like a pill in acid.

The only other people here are Mr. Jensen and one of the Denali sisters, who's doing a very good impression of not texting.

Edward's eyes don't leave mine. He looks like a different person, almost, as if his features have been tied over the skull of someone who can sit calmly. I remember him as quiet and blunt and wild, but the Edward in front of me is blank-faced, perfectly still, in a pose that looks practised and predatory.

Only his eyes move, flicking down and up, and I wait for the change in his face when he sees my dyed hair.

But there is nothing; not a twitch in that stone-like face. That face.

It breaks my heart to realise how beautiful he is. It makes my bones scream when I take in the sharpness of his jaw, the high cheekbones, aristocratic nose. The shaggy bush of his hair is shorter, but still sticks up in strange angles. His shoulders are broad, and my stomach flips- I already know how they feel against me. How strong the length of his back is.

The green eyes gaze into my muddy brown ones, and I forget, for a moment, how to be frightened. How could I ever have been frightened of him?

Because of this. Because of how we affect each other. I should be scared, because I am never scared in front of him, when he is meters away, when everything is suddenly water under the bridge as soon as he looks at me. This is why he is dangerous, and suddenly I'm thanking Mrs. Parson in my head, despite her eventual betrayal. I know what he's doing.

I listen for the cold, detached part of me, letting her dictate how I move, because otherwise I'll run and run and never come back. This kind of reaction has been explained to me countless times- Stockholm Syndrome, selective memory, misguided conceptions...

This is my test. This- stare is my first test.

And then, he does something amazing. Something Edward Cullen has never done before in his life.

He looks away first, and ignores me.

I can't even breathe, I can't think. I can't believe it. His jaw it outlined by the light from the window, but the stiffness of it doesn't matter.

Cold, clinical me reminds me of the empty seat beside him, how that seat is mine. But I'm scared to get close too soon. I tear my eyes from the side of his head, walk towards Mr. Jensen.

I pull Mrs. Parson's note from my pocket, the one saying she has a meeting with me that I never threw away. The meeting that has ruined my head.

"You're early," Mr. Jensen gives me a smile, absent-minded, and glances at the note. "Yes, that's fine." He goes back to what he was writing on the whiteboard.

My eyes need to see him, to soak him in, to adjust to the changes in his body, in the way he holds himself. I need to run my fingers through his hair. I need to touch his chest as he speaks, feel his heart beat faster. Touch those shoulders, instead of ducking away from them.

It's hard to walk out and not glance at him. It's hard to walk away from the classroom. It's hard to remember why what happened between us matters.

And then, when I'm far enough away, I remember.

And my hands can't stop shaking.

I wander the halls, my head feeling light, and try to remember when I last ate. Not this morning. Not last night.

Why...crap...no... I put my hands over my face, trying to breathe steadily. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Not here.

It takes ten minutes to find out where medical is, and the nurse there takes one look at me before guiding me over to one of the sick beds. I lie there and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out how much of the pain I'm feeling is from hunger, how much is from a bad night of sleep, and how much is just from the way Edward Cullen wouldn't look at me in the end.

Mike. Alice. I grope for things in my head, things in my life which are evidence that I am my own person.

I was so weak.

Oh, God, oh, God. Tears burst behind my closed eyelids, and I put my elbow over my face, keeping my breathing even as I perform the art of crying silently. It doesn't matter if anyone sees me- unless they lean in close, they'll never be able to tell what I'm doing.

I can't let him do this to me. I can't allow him to break me into pieces.

Edward Cullen _doesn't control me_.

And even as I drift to sleep, I know what a bitter lie that is. He controls everything I do. Even when he isn't here.

* * *

Alice gives me a huge smile when she sees me at lunch, and then frowns when she notices my red eyes. "Are you okay?" she asks.

I nod. "Have a bit of a cold. Yeah, I just...don't eat enough. I thought I'd give the cafeteria one last chance."

"Good!" she says, her pixie eyes gleaming. She has a secret, one she can't wait to spill. "You need to gain a little. Besides, do you know how weird it is that you're my best friend, but I never sit with you at lunch?"

A wordless smile appeases her, and she guides me to the waiting line. I pick up a tray, and watch her livelier-than-usual actions with growing suspicion.

When we take a seat, I kick her gently under the table after a few calls of her name can't get her attention. She blushes. "Sorry, Bella. So, you and Mike..?" she raises an eyebrow.

"Alice, you're blushing. That's my thing."

She goes a deeper shade. "Cute boy in acting class. He's new, but apparently he transferred from like Texas, -you should hear his accent- and he's just so smooth." She laughs, shaking her head.

"What's smooth?" a deep male voice asks behind me.

Mike touches my shoulder, smiling. "Hey stranger," he says, setting his tray down beside mine, and then looks to Alice. "Hey, Alice. What's up?"

"Bella? You're eating, now?" Rosalie's voice is thick with disbelief, and cuts through the air like a razor. I look up at her, and she takes in my red eyes, her disbelief turning to suspicion. She plonks her tray next to Alice and crosses her arms with a huff, her blonde hair piled in a dramatic braid around her face.

Alice laughs, trying to break the suddenly awkward air. We don't usually talk about how I don't eat much. Anything. It's not something anyone likes to point out, except for Mike, who buys me candy too often for it to be just sweetness.

"I was just telling Bella she should come down with us mortals more often," Alice smiles. Mike wraps his arm around my shoulders, a silent communication that he's glad I'm here.

Rosalie laughs, suddenly, and it surprises Alice, but I see from her pixie face that she likes Rosalie already. Which isnt unusual- this is one girl who can make friends with just about anyone. It's one thing I like about Alice- she's not about to be jealous of or hate a girl like Rosalie just because Rosalie is about as physically perfect as you can get.

"Hey, how did class go?" I ask Mike, leaning into his shoulder, getting a little kick of awareness from it.

He smiles at me, kisses my cheek. "I was thinking about you."

"Oh, perfect," Rose snorts, looking slightly like she regrets sitting down. Alice giggles and shakes her head.

"You're Rose, right?" she asks the blonde.

Rosalie looks at her and cocks her head. "To my friends."

Alice grins. "Then I guess I'm your friend."

"Oh, perfect," I groan, which gets a laugh, but the uneasiness is real- Alice and Rosalie being friends is not what I want. I've taken pains to keep them apart.

Coming here was a bad idea, but I can't take it back, and now I have to live with the possibility that my room mate will tell my best friend my secret.

If Mike feels me trembling, he hides it well.

* * *

I wait for Rosalie that afternoon, knowing her last class. She spots me, and raises an eyebrow. "Um?"

"Don't tell Alice." I stick to the point.

Rosalie blinks, then does a double take. "Are you seriously telling me that Alice has no idea about what happened with Edward?"

I feel like a child. This is stupid. The law says I'm legal. I can't keep feeling shitty out of everything I do. "It's my decision," I reply calmly.

She rubs her face. "Yes, Bella, but- seriously? She's your best friend."

My throat clenches. "Exactly." I feel angry now, properly angry for the first time in years. I meet Rosalie's eyes. "Since when is it good to have your best friend know you're a fuck up?"

She's shocked because she's never heard me swear. "But who better," her temper flares in response. "You don't need to lie to have friends. It's not like this is the sixteenth century and you're damaged goods!"

"It's not lying," I spit.

She gives a hard laugh. "Oh, yeah, Bella, you never lie. You just don't say what's going on."

"Are you mad-"

"I'm mad because your letting them win!" she hisses, her voice lowering as we stop in a slightly more crowded hallway. "You let them win every second you pretend nothing ever happened. They can do this because no one knows they're doing it, Bella, and you're the only one who can change that!"


	8. Running Up That Hill

******Title: The Lion Tamer**

******Author: Lile**

******Rating: T **

******Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

******Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

******Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

******Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

******Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation.**

******Author's note: Cookies anyone? I really appreciate the reviews on the last chapter! Any constructive criticism/feedback is awesome. Thought I'd do a shout out to kitkat2001 and SunflowerFran3759 who are somehow still reading and reviewing. And I'm sorry, SunflowerFran3759 ): , but the big reveal isn't scheduled to happen just yet! You'll get dribs and drabs, though, promise. Follow the cookie trail...**

******Also, yes, Billy Black is the Headmaster of Laboutier. Because come on, Cullens. Move over. You know the Blacks are way less manipulative, no, I know you're arty, but you've got to be sneaky people in this story, 'kay? Okay? Okay.**

* * *

.

Chapter 8

.

I don't know where to go, but I don't want to go to my dorm. The light fades more quickly than I can think. How can I explain to Rose that _no, I can't just tell everyone?_

My throat constricts even having to admit that. I don't want to face her. Where can I go? The air gets chilly in the outskirts of Washington very quickly, which means that by eight there's a fog in front of my face whenever I exhale. Inside, the corridors are emptying, as people slowly trickle indoors, in dorms.

I stand outside in the grassy patch near the orchard, trying to stomp out the cold, trying to avoid looking at the building and thinking about all the friends and enemies who sleep inside. Every inhale freezes my lungs.

Grass crunches to my right, and I turn my head. Jacob's long-haired head approaches me through the soft mist, until I can make out his skin, which looks ashy and sick in the gloom. It's not that unusual to see him around at this time- he's the Headmaster's son, so he pretty much does what he wants to.

It's too late to pretend I'm not just standing here getting cold.

"Bella?" Jacob calls out. His face brightens, lightens like a commercial for toothpaste. "What's up with you?"

I clear my throat, looking at the frozen grass by my feet. When I glance up at him, he's still looking at me. "I needed some fresh air, Jake," I say, weighing him up.

He laughs. "Sure. 'Air'." His voice conveys the quotation marks. He glances to the side, towards the school, then back at me. "You were smoking," he states, brown eyes bland with amused surprise.

Huh?

Oh.

"No, Jake," I mutter, shoving my hands into my pockets. I'm going in. I don't need rumours about me smoking flying around- Laboutier has pretty strict rules about that, and I'm already in testy waters. He catches up with me, long legs able to cover more ground. It makes my throat close up, but I glance at him anyway.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly.

"Why are you here?" I ask, frowning.

He smirks. "Why do you ask?"

"Jake, this way is the Girl's dorm. You're not a creeper. Go home," I grin then, knowing that he probably does live in his dorm room all year round, unless he's on holiday.

He shrugs, super casual, with that excited grin Alice had the other day.

"Spill, Black," I say, standing in front of the entrance and crossing my arms. He groastop kicking the dirt around his feet.

"Bella..." he says beseechingly, spreading his hands wide.

I grin at him. "Jaky has a girlfriend-" A crazy bubbling laugh hedges up my throat. It doesn't sound natural, but it's pretty close to how I used to laugh.

Everyone around me is starting to lose their hearts.

"Okay, shh!" he whispers furiously. I glance up, checking if anyone has opening their windows and is watching us, and then glance back at him. "Listen," he says. "I just need five minutes."

"Uh-huh." I lean against the door and mime holding a cigarette, face loose with boredom.

Jake sighs, and mumbles something incoherently, and then says, "Leah Clearwater. Alright? Can I go in now?"

That takes a moment to register. She's in the same year as me, but her family is pretty tight with the Blacks- almost as well-off as them, too.

Or maybe more well-off, considering what I know.

I bring the air-cigarette to my lips and blow a puff of fog at him. "Jake. Get zee hell out." My head feels as if it's spinning, and I miss the next words he says, but I can read it pretty well in his face. "Because you are ze man and vee are ze vimen. Go home."

He scowls. For a moment, it looks like there are two of him. That is so...dizzy... Huh. "You suck, Bella, seriously. I just wanted to talk to her!" His face is all guilty and devious.

I push off the door. "No-" Which way is up? "Uh..." I try to find the door, but it keeps tilting away from my hands.

"Bella?!"

Two strong hands catch me and my butt goes hard against the cold ground. I stare at stars that spin and spin. "Shit." I feel something hot and wet on my cheeks, the only thing solid in a dancing world.

Jake's face, upside-down, slips into view. "Medical?" he asks loudly. His face has lost all the little-boy humor it had before.

He should know how much older he looks. It was okay for him to run around everywhere when we were fourteen, but he's...he looks like a man, now. He needs to understand that it means he can't just stride into a girl's bedroom anymore. Especially not a girl like Leah Clearwater.

"Jake..."

I flinch when I'm lifted up, lose my train of thought, the sky and earth all crazy and moving everywhere. My head feels like a balloon at the top of my neck, uncontrollably torn between Heaven and gravity.

Sounds don't seem the same, but I ignore the panicked look on his face. It's so important! I have to tell him! "You, Jake... Jake, I can't focus, p-please stop it-"

His face blends with the sky, and my sight slips away. I feel his arms- one supporting my back, one under my knees. "You don't weigh anything," he says wonderingly.

My head decides to favor gravity. I let it fall back, and my consciousness follows my sight.

* * *

The first thing I'm aware of is the smell.

Sharp, salty, full and rich and earthy. Peanut butter. My mouth waters. I swallow, and it hurts against my dry throat.

I try to pull the covers over myself, but they're thin- thin, like Medical sheets. My eyes snap open and I flinch in the bright light. My palms push grit out of my eyes, and they blink rapidly to adjust.

I'm in Medical, in bed with a pale blue curtain drawn around my body. I lift the sheet, see that I'm still clothed. It doesn't make sense for me to be here. I was just tired. Why did Jake have to be such a wimp?

I catch sight of what's giving off the heavenly smell and look at the sandwich on a tray beside the bed. Next to it is a glass of orange juice, and an origami swan made of white tissue.

A wave of fatigue passes over me and I have to lie down, breathing hard. I push my elbow over my forehead, blocking some of the light, the skin on my forearm cooling down my overheating brain. I swallow again, tasting bile.

"Awake?" I recognise Alice's voice, and then she pulls back the curtain and is glaring down at me, a worried look on her face.

She has her short hair pulled back with heart-shaped clips, and is wearing a red Hello Kitty t-shirt with black shorts. Perfectly-made up, but for the tired circles under her eyes.

"Alice. Hey." I give her a smile, not at all inclined to sit up. "I'm sorry. I have no idea why I'm-"

"That's rich," she says, and her face looks as if she's been slapped, all red cheeks and angry unsaid words behind scrunched-up eyes.

I shake my head. "Listen, I just had a really embarrassing fainting fit and fell asleep. I'm really sorry you-"

"That you're anorexic? Yeah, I'm sorry about that too," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes are fixed on me, hard and unforgiving.

I stare at her. My stomach does a flip. "I'm not."

She shakes her head, rubs her face. "The nurses checked you out, Bella. Do you know how much you freaking weigh?"

I don't want to have this conversation. "Alice, I'm not anorexic," I hiss out through gritted teeth.

"Bella, when's the last time you ate?" She rubs her face, so upset, and I feel my heart go crackly and brittle, like every word she says could fracture it. Her fingers are clenched. "You never sit with us at lunch. You never come to breakfast. You just- practise!"

"Alice," I really don't flinch. "They have it wrong. Okay? I'm just tired. You shouldn't stress out about this. I fainted. It's stupid and embarrassing. Let's not make a big deal out of it...please."

Alice gives me a long, timed look, and then sits on the edge of my bed. I feel my muscles relax, and give her a faint smile. "Okay," she says. She nods at the tray beside my bed. "That's your breakfast. If you eat it now, you could make first lesson. If you don't mind wearing the same clothes and all." Her nose wrinkles and I laugh. We don't have the same issues about clothing, especially since mine haven't exactly had a chance to get dirty. I can smell Jake on them, but it doesn't bother me.

She keeps giving me that fixed look.

"What?" I say.

"Your breakfast."

My stomach growls once, and then a wave of pain comes from it, like a cramp. I glance at the food. My eye catches sight of the origami swan and I latch on to it like a drowning man to a lifeboat. "Did you do that?"

She shakes her head. "No. Bella, eat. Come on." Her voice gets strained. She's losing patience.

I can't get out of this.

She keeps looking at me. I hate it. My gaze ducks, focussing on her shirt, and then my jeans, glancing at the wrinkles in my blouse.

The silence keeps stretching out.

Alice pushes at my side. "Bella," she says softly. Like I'm a little kid. "We're going to be late."

I freeze up slowly, first my legs, then my hips, and it almost burns my muscles clean of oxygen just to reach over and smash my hand across the tray. The orange juice spills across the floor, peanut butter smearing in it's wake, and the swan goes two metres before landing unceremoniously, coming slightly undone, battered.

I hiss through my teeth. "Oops." When I glance at Alice, she looks shocked, mouth in an O, as if I've done something horrifying. I shake my head. "You know how accident-prone I am."

"Save it," she whispers.

"What?" I smile at her apologetically, doing my best to give the shattered glass and ruined breakfast a wistful look.

She shoves my hips away from her angrily before standing. "I can't believe you, Bella. We're going to have a talk about this." She straightened her shirt, tidies her hair, and I just stare at her.

I've made a mistake. Scared regret shakes my hands.

"Alice." I reach out for her and she slaps my hand away, and it hurts more than the sting in my wrist. "Alice, I'm sorry." My voice goes high with desperation, but she keeps moving away. Panic tightens my chest. "Alice, I'm really sorry." I stumble out of bed, trying to pick up the glass. The metal tray's cold enough to sting, but I keep cleaning it up, hoping she'll say something. Say anything.

"Alice-" I look up, and she's not there.

The glass shards fall out of my hands and I stare at the empty doorway.

I duck my head and run my hands through my hair. Blink quickly. It's fine.

I just need to tidy this up and we'll be fine.


	9. Right Where You Want Me

******Title: The Lion Tamer**

******Author: Lile**

******Rating: T**

******Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

******Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

******Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

******Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

******Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation.**

******Author's note: I present you chappie número 9! Sorry it's taken longer than the others to get out!**

* * *

"Bella!" Mike whoops when he sees me, his arms raising heigh. I'm confused for half a second until I see Tyler and Eric lurking by his side. They're tuning guitars, fingertips toughened to calluses. "Will you come with me tonight, darlin'?" Mike asks, grinning at me.

I cross my arms. "Where?"

He laughs. "To McCarty's."

McCarty's is a little club that lies directly on the road to Portland. I haven't been there before- and I'm still not legal to drink, being eighteen and not twenty one. Is still confused me that I can legally be held responsible if I kill someone, drive, be in the army, vote, and be legally independent, but not have an alcoholic drink if I feel like it. I'm not talking about binging- just the right to. Would the state sooner trust me with a gun than alcohol? Yes. Why? I'm a lot more dangerous with a gun, especially considering my less than satisfactory equilibrium.

Mike catches my eye. He shakes his head. "It'd just to celebrate before all the Volturi crap really starts. Who knows when we'll have our next free night, right?"

I have to agree with that. One more night without Edward is one good night to celebrate. "That sounds good. Who else is going?"

Mike shrugs. "Leah, Sam, Alice, Rose, Ty here, Eric, are you...? Yeah, Eric, and Jessica." He pauses. "Some other people, but I can't remember them right now."

I smile at him. "Thanks for the heads-up...darlin'."

Mike flushes. "Yeah, well." He laughs. "I don't envy you when Alice realises you're going."

I blink. "Why...?" My stomach churns. Did they talk? Did she tell him about this morning? How do I explain that? I'm _not_ anorexic. I just don't... eat...

I grit my teeth, waiting for the answer.

"Because she loves playing dress-up with you," Mike smirks, eyeing my reaction.

I groan and cover my face and he laughs, and I'm so glad he can't see the relief dripping like sweat from every pore.

* * *

"Alice."

"Bella, you'll look great in it!"

"Alice. No."

She scowls at me, her mouth setting in a straight line, but at least it isn't the disappointment of this morning- which seems a whole world away, somehow, as she holds up clothes that aren't mine.

We're in my dorm, as Alice looks beautiful. Her black, short hair is swept back in a sophisticated French wave. She's wearing a lilac dress, matching the purple hues in her eyes, bringing them out like lights. She almost looks a reasonable height in tall, thin heels- the kind that would break my neck if I wore them.

"Does Rosalie even-" I wish Rose was here. Even if we're not seeing eye to eye, she would at least be something to distract Alice. As it is, I'm trapped on my bed, trying to convince her that no, I don't want to be dolled up, I'm Bella Swan, who was practically born in jeans.

Alice gives a loud, exaggerated sigh, cutting me off. "Of course she knows. She gave me her permission. She said we can use some of her clothes for you, since you have...well."

Rose, helping me out? She's not a bad person, but she doesn't like what I'm doing. I'm not sure I even like what I'm doing. Why would she help me? "I doubt that."

Something in my voice catches her ears and Alice narrows her eyes at me. I notice how expertly her make-up is applied. Eyelashes like fans around her eyes. "Bella," she says. "Stop being so stubborn and put on a nice dress for Mike!"

I glare at her, feeling twelve years old all over again. "I don't want to."

"Don't want to look good for Mike?" she smirks, pixie eyes wide and devious. She holds it up again, trying to shove it into my hands.

I curl them into fists. Can this can any more pointless?

"Alice," I talk slowly. "It's a club, it's only for a couple of hours, and I'll probably spill something all over it anyway."

Alice pushes out her lower lip, giving me a wide eyed, sad, disgraced look. Faux-betrayed, and even that makes me feel sick.

"Don't...do that."

She doesn't stop, and I can't let her down when she's giving me a look like that.

_You didn't have a problem doing that this morning, when it was real._

I grab the material out of her grasp with my left hand, as if I've been electrocuted. She relinquishes it with haste, eyebrows raising at my hurried movements. "Can't resist the puppy eyes, eh?" she smiles, wide, all proud.

I stare at her, and then push the knuckles of my right, loosely fisted hand into her jaw. Smile a bit. "I should know better than to be best friends with an actress."

The dress isn't that bad. The size is larger than what I usually wear, but the difference isn't too obvious. When I step out of the bathroom in it, and go back to the dorm, Alice gives a long, content breath.

"I feel like a mother," she says, satisfied, stretching back against my pillows.

I grin at her like an idiot so she won't notice that I'm make-up free. That's one battle I'd like to avoid. When I turn to the door, she tuts.

"Bella...shoes?"

...she's punishing me, isn't she?

* * *

We meet Mike and Jessica outside. For a moment, I think I see Jessica glare at me, but then she just flashes a smile at Mike and I'm left with the uncomfortable feeling that I shouldn't have been near them until she allowed it. After a moment, I spot Angela lingering near them, and I flash her a wide smile. Angela is Alice's room mate. They're pretty opposite in terms of personality, as Angela is quieter, shy, but they both have a gentle streak.

I push my hands into my coat pockets, breathing our a smoky breath. Alice waves at Mike, laughing at a joke, but I'm disconnected.

Something's missing.

We pile into Mike's car, and he keeps the car from silence by means of a lively discussion about soccer with Jessica. I catch Alice giving me narrow-eyed looks every now and then, but I say nothing. Sure, she's friendly with him- so what? I'm not the jealous type.

Another argument is that I don't care, but that isn't terribly helpful.

"There!" Jessica squeals on my ear, and my nose wrinkles. Unlike Alice, her squeals are grating. She waves into the distance from the back seat, and I spot what she's referring to. "Mike, do you see it?" she laughs.

Mike nods. "Uh huh..." He concentrates on finding a parking space, and I point one out. "Thanks, darlin'. We're all meeting by the car around one thirty am, okay? Anyone is later than that and I'm ditching them."

He's using pet names, now. That didn't used to happen, but I'm not sure whether it's good or bad. He parks the car, and then waves at Leah as she passes in her Sedan with Jacob -he must be over the moon- her cousin Emily, a guy called Paul and someone else who I can't quite make out.

Mike gives me a bright look. "Might want to keep your coats in here, guys." He unbuttons his own, putting it under his seat. After a beat, I follow suit, and glance up to see him smiling. I hear Jessica drawing on a breath to speak as he says the next words. I don't want to listen to what she has to say. "You look really-" Mike starts.

I kiss him mid-sentence, leaning across the passenger seat. Mike pauses, and then kisses me back, easily running his hand through my hair. I break away first, and he grins a little more widely at everyone in the back seat.

"Ew," Alice whines, and everyone but Jessica laughs.

I'm eating my words again. I am the jealous type.

* * *

McCarty's is less rough than the name sounds. We're passed in, and get a purple stamps on our hands to show we're under twenty-one. Inside, there's a disco ball, flashing lights, and a loud bass that I can feel in vibrations through the floor. There's a huge crowd- I feel like I could lose everyone in the blink of an eye.

Alice tugs at my wrist, pulling me into the dance floor, and my shoulders brush against people I've never met, all moving and twisting in one rhythm. The beat pumps through the air, loud, so loud, and I don't hear what she says.

"What?" I yell. She leans in, right to my ear.

"Get out there!" she says, and I lose her in the throng.

I stare, panicked. "Alice!"

She's gone, and in her place are a man in green pants dancing with a woman with too many rings on her fingers.

My stomach flips, and I take a deep breath. I'll have fun tonight.

I spot Mike, and wade over to him. His blue eyes look black in the strange lighting, his hair messed up. He pulls me to him, his shoulders a warm solace. He's saying things I can't hear, but I don't mind, and again I kiss him, just to try and get that safe feeling.

My chin rests on his shoulder, and I open my eyes.

I take a step back.

"Bella?" Mike catches hold of my arm. My breath comes out in bursts. No. He's not here. He can't be here.

There was one person I couldn't see in Leah Clearwater's car.


	10. Hell's Bells

******Title: The Lion Tamer**

******Author: Lile**

******Rating: T**

******Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

******Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

******Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

******Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

******Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation.**

******Author's note: LALALALALALA. **

******Bella's dress link and so on will be on my profile shortly!**

* * *

I tug at Mike's arms. "Let's go!" I shout over the music. He gives me a confused look, then shakes his head.

"We just got here!" he smiles, and I let go of his hands. He reaches for me, but Jessica fills the space between our bodies. I stumble back, her hair leaving a tingly feel on my face that gets right under my skin. My fingers push the sensation away, lip curling.

When I look up, I'm lost on the crowd. I tilt my head around, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone from the Academy. In the poor lighting, it's hard to tell, and I curse myself for getting jumpy over thinking I saw Edward. He's probably not here. I'm just getting paranoid. Again. Okay. I need to find Alice.

I push through the crowd, searching for her. It's not surprising that this place is packed- it's the only club nearby that Eric Yorkie classes as 'alright'. He's half Asian, and moved to the US to go to Laboutier, and we all quickly realised that if he said something was vaguely edible, that meant it was delicious. He's not big on complimenting the world.

The song changes, and the flashing lights began bursting out in blues and greens. I recognise the tune, but it's been altered and remixed to the point where I kind of wish I didn't.

An arm wraps around my waist. "Bella?"

"Leah?"

She smirks into my face, her eyes looking soft and dreamy in the open air. "Hey, girl." She laughs out loud, and I realise she's drunk when she stumbles a little. Crap. I take hold of her shoulders. I can't leave her if she's alcohol-dumb. "Hey," I say carefully, guiding her over to the bar. At least she should sit down.

Leah spins around behind me. Great. It takes a lot of wheedling and tugging to get her over to sit down, but when I manage it she flops into the chair, making a big show of crossing her legs as she smirks at the bartender. Well. Explains how she got the drinks. When I look at her wrist, I see she's washed off the stamp.

"Are you okay?" I yell over the music. Can't even call it music, at this stage.

She giggles, her almond eyes narrowing. "Alice was super right. You should totally get fat. You can eat, you know."

My mouth goes in a straight line. She topples a little, and I grab her shoulder so she won't fall over in the stool. My fingers dig in a little more than they should. "Alice is just..." She talked about this? When did she even have time to tell Leah? Leah! I didn't even know they knew each other!

"Do you know what?" Leah says, watching me. Her fingers poke my shoulder, finding the hardness of bone, and I let her go, leaning away.

"What?" I ask. How could Alice just...talk about this to anyone but me? I thought we were going to talk about it together first. It's weird for her to do- she's my best friend. How could she? Why? A puzzled kind of pain settles under my ribs.

"Alcohol has calories," Leah blurts, like it's the funniest thing ever. She gives me a careful look, like she's waiting for me together the joke.

"Yeah?" I say, taking a seat beside her. Thank God, I at least managed to have my say about wearing flats instead of high heels.

Leah gives an exaggerated sigh. "Soooooo." She raises her eyebrows. "Skinny white chick should get faaaaat. Alcohol. Calories." She laughs, shaking her head. "Aw, man, you're so dumb, Bella."

The hurt in my chest gets sharper. I glance at the bartender. He looks a little familiar, but I can't place his face. My attention reverts back to Leah, and her comments sting me again.

Hey, Alice. Want me to gain a few pounds?

I nudge Leah and give a conspiratorial wink. "Can you get me some, then?"

She snickers. Thank goodness for happy drunks. It strikes me as odd that her voice isn't slurred, but then again, this is Leah. She's a dancer- there's a crazy amount of control that goes with that. "Sure, Bella. Whatcha want?"

Um. Right. What do I want? I glance up at the list of drinks, written in neon paint above the bar on a black background. "How about a shot?" The words send chills of something uncomfortable and tight into my skin, like I'm being stretched beyond a limit I didn't know I had.

Then again, I thought Alice had certain limits. When Leah pushes a small glass to me, I raise it.

"Santé," Leah purrs. She tips her head back, and the alcohol goes straight through her parted lips, hitting the back of her throat and flowing deeper. There's something dangerous about it, the way she bares her throat, something unsettling. Wild.

I want it.

She glances at me, caramel eyes glinting. "Scared, Bella?"

No. I'm tired of being scared. I raise the glass, tilt my head back and swallow. The tequila burns. It tastes like licorice mixed with raisins, but dark and gross and hot.

My face twists and she laughs, totally at ease, already pushing another my way. I feel wide awake, and suddenly the music is smoother, the lights to much more vivid on the bottles ahead of me. Another swallow, another burn and my heart starts to race, picking up time, like adrenaline in heat. This can't be what alcohol always feels like.

"Feeling it?" Leah asks, but I hear her voice a few seconds behind her lips moving.

My head feels really light.

I have never drunk like this- a tentative sip at formal occasions on a full stomach when I was younger, maybe, but _never_ something this raw and brutal and sudden. Being a policeman's daughter ensured that.

A hand pulls me to my feet and Leah gives me a pleased little wave, and I wave back, not resisting. Where am I going? I try to look, and a hand holds my jaw, pulling me to a concrete body. My eyes fly, and through the dizzy alcohol goggles I catch sight of Alice's lilac dress.

Her hands, on Jasper Hale's suited shoulders.

It goes through me like a knife. He laughs at something she says, but they don't see me before I'm whisked away. "Wait-" I cough out. What is she doing with Jasper? Do they know each other?

Pain stabs me again, and it hurts even more when I can't think straight. Is she doing this for him? Did she rat about me for a Cullen? He is a Cullen. He's Carlisle's attorney. How could she— Why? Alice. Tears spurt in my eyes. I'm so sorry, Alice, this is my fault, I understand, I'm so sorry. I keep seeing orange juice, like if I hadn't disappointed her, if I hadn't made her angry, if I was a better person, I could make her like me again.

I'm crying now, unashamedly, pushing the man's hands away. He's taking me outside. Is that good or bad? I can't remember.

"Wait!" I say, just in case,trying to get space between us. Why isn't Leah helping me? I looked out for her. At least...I think I did... "Hey, can you please-"

Edward gives me a cool look and pushes me outside. I hear cameras flashing behind me, and the air is cold, like ice. It's darker than inside, and my eyes are blind as they adjust.

"Hey Edward!" someone screams behind me, their voice accompanied by flashes of light, clicks reminiscent of a typewriter, like they're already using their cameras to tell a story. "Who's the pretty lady?"

We're only a few feet from the front of the bar, but it feels like miles. The uneven ground makes me feel even more uncoordinated than usual.

I have my backs to the...reporters.

Edward looks down at me, the curl in his mouth betraying amusement. His hands are gentle on my arms. There's an electricity flickering, but I feel blind folded. Edward... doesn't...I need to remember to be afraid, and it's so hard. He smells the same as ever. He leans in, and my heart panics for me.

He laughs into my ear. It's quiet, at first. His jaw is cool, like stone against mine, and I can't turn around, can't pull away and let the cameras see my face. Not like this.

Edward puts his arms around my waist and his head pulls back, leaving an icy spot on my neck. Did he kiss me there? I didn't feel it. My head is spinning. His bright green eyes are all I can see. They glow with a quiet satisfaction, gazing into my eyes.

I had forgotten those clever eyes. He pushes my hair behind my ear. And then he starts to laugh properly, his face an irrestistable mix of charm and confidence.

His eyes flash as he presses his thumb into my hip. "I like this dress on you." His voice is smooth, with a husky edge. His fingers run over the straps on my shoulders, admiring the dark blue. It's like there are no cameras. I can't breathe. His eyes beg me to say something, flashing gold flecks, that amused smile never leaving his mouth. He's comfortable with his body, and more than comfortable with handling mine close to it. There's no hesitation in the way he runs his hands along my sides.

It's too much, all at once. I gasp for air. "An ambush?" I breathe.

Edward shrugs, and I see something flash in his eyes, like steel. "You make it sound like you weren't expecting me to find you," he says.

I pull away, millimetre by millimetre. "Edward, what are you doing?"

Our eyes meet. At this distance, I can appreciate how the years have altered him. There's a quiet, violent twist to his expressions, making every bright smile seem a little insane.

He looks away, and for a second I see something bite into him as savagely as shame. It cuts straight through his crazed look, and I'm left with the boy I knew, before he disappears again. "How much did you drink?" he smiles.

"Why does that matter?" I mumble.

He pushes a hand into my side, and I know he feels my ribs. "Two shots? Three? I was kind of counting on you not to, you know." He smiles then, bright, right as he looks up and cameras flash again.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, feeling my arms start to shake.

Edward's eyes drop down to me. "I've never seen you in a dress before," he mutters. His voice is lower now. "You have no idea what you've just done, do you?"

I can't turn around. I have to get back in the club. He feels my muscles tense and his smile doesn't falter. It's for the cameras. This is an ambush, I was right, and the alcohol is starting to let me go, getting pushed out by shaky adrenaline.

"Don't do it," I whisper. "Edward." My eyes feel dry, but if I blink I'll start crying. My chest shakes. The freezing air raises goosebumps on my bare legs, bare arms.

His jaw goes all tight, and he puts a hand under my chin. Can I refuse this?

I swallow hard, fists forming, ready to hit him. Ready to break his nose. "What the hell are you playing at?"

"Edward! Who's your friend?" a camera flashes.

This is about getting a picture of us together, isn't it? The realisation dawns slowly, staggering through drunken imaginings. Of course. We'll look like we're hanging out, having fun together. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him away slowly. He's wearing a dark red t-shirt, with a slogan from a band I've never heard of.

And Alice. I can't bear to think about her talking about me behind my back, then dancing with Jasper.

"What do you want?" I force out.

Edward laughs, cameras snapping, and grins down at me. Making a production out of his little mystery girl. "You think one little show with you is going to solve anything?" His hands pause, resting on the dip of my waist. I feel my eyes starting to burn, my vision getting blurry, and his hands pause. "Don't," he whispers, quiet and husky.

My jaw chatters when I try to talk. "Stop touching m-me."

"Bella, there are things I have to do," he says, still quiet, his lips barely moving. "-that I don't necessarily want to anymore. But don't think I won't."

"Y-you don't have to," I say, but it comes out all quiet, and my chest feels tight, and I really don't want to cry. I'm full of strange hope that maybe I can get out of this.

He stares at me silently for a moment, weighing his options, and then leans in. It's so sweet, the way he tilts his head. Like he'll never hurt me, he'll never lose us. He's going to kiss me.

"Bella?" Alice's voice, from the club. "What are you doing?" She sounds shocked.

He sees my face turn to hatred, triggered by her, and then I can't keep my loathing of him inside. Edward flinches, his shaggy head pulling away. He lets me go, pushes me back and storms past me. I feel the strength of his side like a ton of bricks.

Alice watches him leave, and then her eyes go to the camera-men, who are trying to follow him, and finally they rest on me.

"What was that?" she hisses, gesturing for me to come back in.

There's a stone in my stomach, and I want the ground to swallow me up, and I don't want to deal with her or anyone or anything. "Not now."

"Are you cheating on Mike?" she hisses, face thunderous.

I laugh at her, feeling so tired, taking steps towards her, hands dropping by my sides. She shrinks back a little and I don't want to care. "Why did you tell Leah about me?"

She blinks. "What are you talking about?"

"She said," my voice cracks. "You'd been talking about me."

Alice's face turns cold as an ice cube. "And you believed her?"

My face screws up. "She knew about..." I trail off, afraid to say it, my jaw freezing up.

Alice's face softens, and she pulls me close, hugging me inside the entrance. "Everyone can tell that," she whispers. "Bella, I didn't tell her anything. I promise."

"But you- Jasper-" words stumble out. If Leah didn't get the information from Alice, where? Why would she offer me drinks if she wasn't just trying to be funny at me? She...waved... Was it a set up? Did I just walk into a trap so that when Edward got to me, I wouldn't fight? I start to shake, and Alice's arms tighten.

"You know Jasper?" she says surprised. "What does he have to do with anything?"

I rest my head on her shoulder, feeling as if I'm coming out of shock. Of course I can trust Alice. I wrap my arms around her, feeling helpless, like prey, and I hate it with every fibre of my being. I swore Edward wouldn't do this anymore. I never thought he'd be willing to play dirty like this, and I was an idiot. Of course he would. He's a Cullen. And that means he'll use anyone he feels he should- like Leah Clearwater.

For some reason, I find myself hoping he gave her an unimaginable sum of money to do it. I don't want to even think about her ever actually wanting to do something like that to me. Was she even drunk, or just acting? My head hurts, so I place it on Alice's shoulder. "Thank you," I tell her quietly.

First round, Edward 1, Bella 0.

Next time, I'll be ready for him.

* * *

**Review?**


	11. Until It Hurts

**Title: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**Rating: T**

**Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

**Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

**Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

**Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

**Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation.**

**Author's note: I'd like to thank everyone who's still reading this for doing so! :) Also, did anyone see the Eurovision? Just as crazy as ever! My favorites were Birds - Anouk, Only Teardrops - Emmelie de Forest, and the Hungarian entry :D**

**Brace yourselves for a busy chapter!**

**IMPORTANT: it goes without saying, but please don't drink if you're under age! **

**Also, if you're ever in a relationship, and your partner tries to take a swing at you, GET OUTTA THERE. Abusive relationships never end well, and make everyone suffer. You don't deserve to be that unhappy, dear readers!**

* * *

I release Alice from the hug, and rub my face, leaning against Mike's car. It's cold against my back, leeching through the fabric of the dress Rosalie lent me.

"So..." Alice looks at me, her small mouth puckered in thought. "Who was that guy, Bella?"

I can do one of two things. I can just not tell her- and life would go on as it has so far, excruciating and slow and exhausting. Or I could just tell her about Edward, but I'm frightened that I won't be able to, or more that I will, and she won't understand. Could I stand the looks she might give me? I don't want our friendship to change. But on the other hand, it has been changing, getting tenser and tenser with every passing day.

I have no idea what I'm meant to do. There should be a clear cut path to follow, labelled 'RIGHT' in big neon letters, but I can't see it. Maybe I won't know until I take a defined step in a certain direction. How can I know I'm doing the right thing unless I live in the consequences of a decision? After all, that's what I'm doing now, and I don't like it. Maybe if I tell her, I'll have better consequences to deal with.

Maybe it'll be okay for me to tell Alice... She's my best friend. She should...at least listen to me.

"It's a long story," I say, weighing up her reaction.

Alice laughs. "Okay. I didn't like it in the club that much, anyway. It's kind of loud."

She's making excuses for me. It hurts, but in a good way. This is what having a friend is - they give up some things when they think you are more deserving of their time, even when you kind of wish they wouldn't - even when you wonder why they bother.

The air is still chilly, though, and it will only get worse. I don't want her to get a cold.

"We should find someplace warm," I say, rubbing my arms. Where will be open, at this time of night? Although, when I check my watch, I realise it's barely eight.

Alice grins. "I know just the place."

* * *

Garrett's is a little coffee place lined with books, with a few tables pushed haphazardly in the middle. The owner is a little old man who sits behind a wide desk, with a cashier on one side, and a stack of maps on the other. He barely glances up when he come in, giving a tiny wave before returning to a manuscript that has his attention.

"How did you find this place?" I whisper, feeling like loud noise would break this place.

The whole place smells like old paper and wax. The ceiling supports a dusty, unused chandelier beside a modern lightbulb that glows in a flimsy sort of way beneath a coral-pink lampshade.

Alice hops over to the far side of the room and grins, gesturing me over. There are several machines hoisted onto little side tables that look far too spindly to support their weight. Alice pressed a button on a hot chocolate machine, and it makes a grating humming noise as it dishes steaming liquid into a fat blue mug. "It's kind of invite only," she giggles. "Hi, Mr. Austin!"

Garrett Austin grunts once in acknowledgment, then looks at us. He gives me a long, measured look. His forehead creases, and he stares at me, at if I'm a puzzle he hasn't quite finished. There's a knowiglue twinkle in one of his eyes.

"And we can just come in?" I ask dubiously.

She rolls her eyes. "It's set up for people who want a private place to read. And we need a private place to talk...so..."

"How many other tricks do you have up your sleeve?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, but taking the cup she offers to me anyway. It feels warm, a shock to my icy fingers, and I savour it. I try to avoid thinking about what I'm about to do. There's no way to back out, is there? No way out at all.

Don't think like that. I suck air into my lungs quickly.

Alice chooses the table furthest from Garrett Austin, and I sit opposite her.

The cups stay directly between us on the square table, a little barrier that I need to gather my thoughts.

"So that guy was...?" she prompts. Her legs cross under the table- I feel it when her shoe's toe brushes my calf.

It's now or never. "Edward Cullen." The name fits around my tongue so easily, like I could say it all day and never get bored.

"And he was there because...? Coincidence?" she says. She takes a noisy sip from her cup, and I have to smile.

"He was..." She lets me take my time. My cheeks heat up, turning bright red. Why is it still so hard to talk about him? "We used to- date." I wish I had more of my mother in me. Maybe if I was a little more chatty, a little less like Charlie, this would get better. "I mean, we used to rely on each other for...a lot of things." I can't do this. My throat closes up.

I can't betray him like this. I can't. I _won't_.

"Bella?" Alice says, quiet, observing me.

What am I talking about? Why do I always have to protect him?

I have to continue. "We used to be very close," I say. "And then...things went badly for him and he had to go away for a long time."

"That's sad," she says.

"Alice, he was in juvie for four years," I take a deep breath. "After that, Carlisle, his father, was able to get him out. They're a rich family."

Her eyes widen. "What?!"

Garrett Austin gives a disgruntled huff at the loud noise.

Alice narrows her eyes. "Why was he in juvie?" she hisses.

I grin at her shakily. "That's the million dollar question, isn't it? He was there for..." My skin feels too tight, itchy everywhere at once. "Edward- he wasn't ever really a good kid. He tried to be, but he finally figured out that it was never going to win over his adoptive parents. They preferred his younger brother, his friends were mostly other snobs, and I guess I was...there for him. I mean, I understood what he was going through. We talked a lot, we started dating, and then..." Jesus, Edward, let me go. Let me talk about us. I rub my face, then push away my cup. "He got a little controlling. Not enough to be serious, but enough to piss me off. We got into this massive fight," I bite down bile. "And it turned into a physical fight. We used to wrestle all the time when we were kids, but this was different."

She stays quiet, and I keep wishing she'd say something, anything, so I can stop.

"It was like I just wanted to hurt him," I mutter. "I wanted him to realise that I could stand up for myself, instead of getting walked all over as usual. It had been building for a while, and I guess he'd been building up some anger as well. I lasted as long as I did because of all the martial arts courses Charlie made me do when he figured out I'd never be good at stuff like ballet. And the reason for that? You know it. I'm clumsy."

If I keep slowing this story down...Xeno's paradox.

"So, I'm clumsy. I couldn't keep up with all the punches."

"He attacked you?" she summarises, shocked.

I shake my head, not liking the way that sounds. "We attacked each other. It would've been easier if it was one sided, I think. We were both so...mad, at everything, and I just hated him and he just...snapped. I snapped. And maybe we would have been okay, if it ended there. We'd fix each other back up. But he was still...angry, after I was spent. I was just furious over a hurt pride, but he was furious over his parents and all those abandonment issues and trust issues..."

_My whole body hurts. He stands opposite me, eyes on fire, cheeks turning purple._

_His eyes look red, and before I know it I'm on the floor again._

_"Edward, I'm sorry!" I shout hoarsely, grimacing when my head snaps back against the floor. "I'm sorry!" I grab his face in my hands, and I start to tear up when I see how I'm ruined his perfect complexion. My head is a mess. How could this happen? How could we damage each other? He's meant to be my prince, and I'm meant to be a lady. Our breaths slowly calm down, and he stares down at me, his weight pressing me down. His hands grip my hair, pinning it down either side of my head. "Edward?" I whisper. I run my fingers through his hair, through the stiff red bushy mess, trying to figure out why his eyes still look so torn between crimson and black. The light of twilight makes him look surreal. Inhuman. _

_Edward shakes his head, and I start to hope that someone will be home is his house empty so much of the time? It's like no one but me wants him around._

_I start to question whether I want him around. We just- fought. My shoulder still burns._

_He has me by the throat, now, and I take a sharp breath. "Edward- come on-" Edward stays totally silent, watching me, leaning in and kissing me. It feels like a goodbye, and I start to get scared. "Edward, what are you doing?" I whine. "Let me up."_

_The bruises on my stomach ache as he presses closer. His mouth opens mine, but I don't kiss back. I feel trapped- like prey. We joke a lot that he's a lion and I'm a lamb, but now I understand how that would feel in a literal world._

_He stares at me, at my unresponsive body. "What's the matter? Don't you love me?" He looks as if he could cry, cheeks as red as mine, mouth in a charmless snarl. _

_Edward's hands release my hair, and I almost want to hit him again, but I've come back to my senses. And those senses are telling me that something is different now- we are going to be different forever. This fight has broken us forever. This is only the beginning_.

"The fight led to other things, and then—"

"Ah," Garrett Austin hawks.

I freeze up, caught in headlights. Alice frowns, turning around. "Excuse me!"

The old man stares at me. "You're that lass!" He holds up a newspaper cutting. "I was tryin' to figure out your face 'ver since you stepped in."

I stare, then shake my head. It's impossible- I've never been in the newspaper.

Alice stands up for me, taking the clipping and looking it over. I keep waiting for her to deny that it's me, to hand it back with a little laugh, but she just stands there holding it. Like it has the rest of the story, everything I've been avoiding.

My heart sinks as her expression turns more and more shocked. She shakes her head, then strides over to me, thrusting the clipping in my face. "This isn't you, right? Bella, tell me that's not you."

I take it, in shaking fingers. How could anyone print my story with the Cullens bribing left, right and centre?

In the centre of a large page of text is a low-quality black and white picture of me when I was fourteen. I can see why Alice isn't quite sure it's me- my hair, for one thing, is dyed darker now. I never used to wear make-up before Mike. My eyes still looked a bit wild. My mom died- what, a few years before this was taken? But it still hurt. I had lost all of Arizona along with her, and moving to Forks had been...unsettling. A lot of change. Maybe that's what drew me to Edward's quietness, his usual stillness.

But it's me, and the story is mine.

Alice sits down heavily, and her stare says it all. "So that's why you don't eat. Or tight spaces. Or sitting in the back seat..." I watch her mind solve all the puzzles, each piece fitting into place. "That's why you never leave mesages." Her voice cracks.

I grin at her in panic. "Listen, it's fine. Now you know."

Her eyes fill with tears. "Why didn't you tell me? I've been so...stupid..."

"No!" I grab her hand, shaking my head. "Alice. Don't think that. Please. You've been a great friend. Better than I deserve."

She sighs, blinking rapidly so her tears won't fall. "And Jasper?"

I sigh, feeling exhausted. "He's Carlisle's new attorney, and Edward's cousin. He's not...cruel, Alice. He's...nice. I just don't know how he is now. I haven't been in contact with the Cullens or their...associates for a while."

She sighs. "Why is he here, then?"

It feels strange to think of her dating him. It feels scary. "To clear Edward's name, I'm going to be entering Volturi with him."

"What?!" she looks furious. "Why the f-"

"Because if I don't, Carlisle's not going to give money to Laboutier, so it will shut down. I can't let Edward ruin my whole life, Alice, and on top of that I can't let him ruin the lives of everyone I know just so that I won't have to face him."

She shakes her head, gripping my hand. The enormity of the truth shows on her features. "But it's not fair," she whispers.

My head aches. "I'll figure it out."

"What about Mike?" she asks.

I feel sick. "What about Mike?"

"Does he know about you and Edward...? What happened between you...?"

I shake my head. "It's kind of a mood killer," I smile, my joke falling flat anyway.

But then, my smile becomes...real. I grip Alice's hand back.

I told her, and she doesn't...reject me. A fluttery happiness bubbles up my throat and I laugh. She still wants to be my friend! Relief sloshes from my shoulders, and I lean back in my chair and laugh until my throat dries.

* * *

_Review to let me know what you think :) I'm interested in how you take the story!_


	12. Torn Between Two Lovers

**Title: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**Rating: T**

**Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

**Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

**Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

**Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

**Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation. Do not EVER do drugs (like alcohol) and drive. Don't do underage drinking...don't subject yourself to an abusive relationship... wow. My characters seriously suck at life. Oh yeah! And if someone tries to blackmail you like Carlisle is with Bella, call the frickin' police.**

**Author's note: Thank you for the lovely reviews! I'm sorry I couldn't reveal everything of Bella's past in one go, but at least you know the beginnings of it :) **

**The piece of music that Bella plays in this chapter is called "Dying Soul". It was part of THE HOST movie's soundtrack. It is NOT something I have created, or take any credit for.**

* * *

Alice and I return to the car when Mike calls me, his voice too chipper and high. Leah's car is full up, and I try to forget that Edward is in there with her.

The cars are parked next to each other, and Alice and I are the last to arrive back. I avoid looking at Leah's car- because what's in it for me? Is everyone in that car under Edward's spell? No. Jacob is in there.

What if Jacob gets sucked in to this? That thought is troubling. He's...so...happy all the time. His interest in Leah, though... How far would he go to try and make her want him? Should I be worried about him, or wary?

"Earth to Bella," Mike laughs, but it sounds off. I glance at him.

Freeze.

"You're not driving us," I say, undoing my seat belt. It's not a question- it's an order.

Mike shakes his head. "No one else gets to touch my baby's steering wheel, Bella."

"Mike," I stare at him. His eyes are a little glassy, and keep sliding over me, unable to focus. A part of me understands. This is his one chance to lose control. But on the other hand, what kind of designated driver gets drunk? That's not like him at all. I try to keep the disappointment off my face. "Just...let me drive, okay?"

The car is really quiet. No one else makes a sound, and he shakes his head at me, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Haven't you had something to drink?" he says accusingly.

"Yes," I confirm it. But the alcohol isn't in my blood now- washed away by adrenaline and hot chocolate, not to mention the five hours since I drank. That chat with Alice has sobered me up in more ways than one. "But that was five hours ago, Mike. It's one am."

"Five hours?" he looks so guilty for a moment, like he can't make sense of it. "It's been five hours since you left? Where were you?" His eyes narrow, grip tightening on the steering wheel. A muscle in his cheek twitches; I hear Jessica giggle in the seat behind me, and a quiet voice inside wonders if those two reactions are linked.

I can't get angry at him. Not in front of people. Why is he doing this?

"She was with me," Alice chimes in. "Girl talk!" She laughs, and the ice cold atmosphere breaks a little.

Mike looks away, undoes his seatbelt, gets out of the car with more force than necessary. I open my door and get out, walking around the car to switch places.

He catches my arm outside, and we stand there, between the two cars. I clench my fist, and relax it immidiately, terrified of myself. "Are you okay?" I ask him, trying to make out his face in the dim light.

Leah honks impatiently.

Mike waves a hand towards her car, and I realise that Edward can see us.

Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck. "Mike, come on. What are you doing?"

_Edward, what are you doing?_

Mike sighs. "I'm sorry for being dumb, Bella. I wouldn't...I wouldn't have _driven_, you know? I was going to ask you to take over, anyway. I guess I just feel stupid and I didn't like everyone seeing." He smiles, wrapping his arms around me. "But you're totally right." He moves to kiss me and I try to tilt my head too late. Our lips meet and I taste the rich foulness of whatever he's drunk. He makes a quiet noise, and I feel sick. I'm the first to pull away, as always, but there's a new feeling of discontent inside that his touch has never created before.

Mike glares at me as I pull away, a sharp spear of hurt burning behind his eyes. He's drunk enough to be unable to hide it, and there's a damaged limp to the way he moves. Like a boy who doesn't know what to do.

He turns away abruptly, and I catch a hint of a smell under the heavy scent of beer. Something sweet, like flowers. It's gone before I can really understand what it is.

I'm left outside, alone, with my thoughts. Would he really have not driven, even without my intervention? I don't know of I believe him, and that scares me. Mike is meant to be my safe place.

What kind of haven is he if I can't trust him?

I get into the driver's seat, quiet. Silently grateful that Alice didn't insist on driving- she knows I won't get into the back seat, and that Mike would flatly refuse, since it's his car. I avoid looking at Mike, and adjust the rear-view mirror. I catch sight of Jessica as I do so. Her lipstick is smudged, and she's staring at me with a look of self-important triumph.

Huh.

I start driving, trying to be as careful as I can. Leah's car follows close behind. My stomach drops. This isn't a chase. She is not pursuing me. Why do I have this inclination to feel like prey? I struggle to maintain a constant speed, my foot constantly on the verge of accelerating so that I can get away. But I have no where to run that I'm not alread heading toward.

Edward must have seen the kiss. I adjust my grip of the steering wheel, frowning into the darkness of the road. I have a bad feeling that I'm going to have to suffer some consequences.

A soft snoring breaks out behind me. Jessica.

I glance at Mike, to see him staring out of the window, his arms laying at his side stiffly, like a child that's been told off.

This is what I get for being the responsible one of my family. I swallow hard, looking back ahead, trying to avoid thinking about my mother, the most hare-brained person I ever knew. This isn't the time, or the place.

My mother. Renée. My teeth grind against each other. This isn't the time!

I should be celebrating. I've made a step- I told Alice. For me, that's a massive leap. So why doesn't it feel like one? Why is my mind as heavy as ever? Sharing my burden should make it lighter, but it doesn't. I shouldn't have expected it to get easier just by telling someone. Healing is the hardest; the longest. Now Alice is by my side, and that's a comfort, but only a comfort. Like a bed time story- no matter how good it is, it can't prevent nightmares. It won't stop Edward.

I turn in to the Laboutier drive way.

So long as I have distance from him, I at least have time to regroup.

* * *

"I do wish you'd concentrate, Ms. Swan. This is your last lesson with me before the classes are split for Volturi preparation." Mr. Banner shakes his head, clicks his tongue. My cheeks flare red as Lauren Mallory smirks at me, her own violin resting casually on her shoulder. My own feels as if it weighs a ton of bricks.

Sleep didn't come easily. I was too stressed, for once, to enjoy the escape of it. Even my own composition seems foreign to me this morning. I had to switch my shirt around twice this morning- I kept putting it on inside out and back to front.

"When you're ready, Ms. Swan." Mr. Banner stops in front of me. The rest of the class give me bored looks- they want to get on with their own things, but Mr. Banner insists we all 'showcase' what we've come up with. "Give it your heart, now!"

I take a deep breath. At least I can put this down to stage fright. I steel myself aslog lance down at my composition book. Exhaling, I begin to play, working hard to get every note the right length.

The music is sad, even to my own ears.

* * *

When classes finally end, I lock my violin away and the piano lids have all been closed. A yawn escapes my throat, loud and heady. I rub sleep from my eyes. This isn't good. My last 'normal' day, and I've been in a half-doze for most of it.

"Bella!" I hear footsteps racing behind me. Dammit. I was planning to go back to my dorm to sleep. It's early, but necessary if I want to be of any use tomorrow.

I kick at the gravel on the pathway, and turn around.

Mike's hair is sticking up at all angles. "Listen, I'm sorry about yesterday. This morning. It was...really dumb of me." He swallows. "Bella, please say something."

I shrug. "Why were you drinking in the first place?" There isn't enough energy to sound anything but tired.

Mike goes pale. "I was just stupid! I'm sorry!"

Why is he getting to upset? Why isn't he answering the question?

"Did you see Jessica get off with anyone?" I ask quietly.

Mike clears his throat, eyes unable to stay on me anymore. "No. Why?"

"Her lipstick was messed up."

He shrugs, looking away. "Yeah. Well." Colour slowly filters back into his cheeks tenfold. "I guess I wasn't the only one being stupid that night, then!" He gives a panicked smile. "You can't trust Jessica to be in a room full of legal guys and not want to be with at least one of them." He rolls his eyes, dismissing her. He sees my expression, and his own tightens. "Bella, you know you're the only one I care about, don't you?" He takes a step forward, reaching for me.

_Liar!_

When is the last time I touched him? How many times have I pushed him away? I remember how angry he was- no. Not angry. Hurt. All the times I put him out of my heart, not returning the glances he wanted, not spending the time I should have. Did it hurt him so much?

Jessica has more feminine wiles than I could ever hope to imagine, and she has known him longer than I have. She gets what she wants. She must know the right kind of words to say. She's had plenty of time to lead up to last night, to play the shoulder to cry on. There are five hours where both of us were hiding from one another. Am I the only one who was hiding a secret?

No way. No, no, no. Not Mike. I don't even know how to think about this- my head keeps swimming through sleep, in a way that's worse than being drunk.

He shakes his head, and stops short of wrapping his arms around me. "I'm sorry, okay?" he whispers, and it's not just for the driving incident.

The intercom buzzes, and we both tilt our heads up, happy for the distraction.

"_Can Ms. Bella Swan please report to the principals office? Ms. Swan to the principals office_." The intercom screeches as it gets turned off.

"That's me," I say, giving him a faint smile. Saved by the bell.

Mike runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head. His eyes are urgent. His face looks so guilty and I just can't stand to see him anymore. "Bella, listen to me-"

"I'll see you around, okay?" I turn my back on him.

I really hate to let people see me cry. Get a grip, Swan. Brush it off, brush it off, brush it off. Don't cry. Jessica 1, Bella 0. When will I win a round?

Why am I being summoned?

* * *

It takes five minutes to walk to the principal's office, and I'm glad for it. It gives me time to clear my throat, get my face back together. I expected it to hurt more, but instead I feel wide awake.

When I knock on the door, it swings open, and the first thing I register is that Mr. Black isn't here. Behind the desk is Carlisle, with Edward by his side. I glance to my left and see Jasper isn't present. That's...odd.

My heartbeat begins to quicken.

"Bella," Carlisle nods.

"Carlisle," I manage.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asks smoothly, using the voice of a headmaster. I glance at Edward, who stays by the window, his face turned away. I can't read him.

"Why?" I ask, refusing to sit when he gestures for me to settle opposite him.

Carlisle sighs. "You're clever, so I'm sure you're aware that one little...performance won't be enough. My primary concern is your relationship with the Newton boy."

"That's not a problem." It's shocking, how calm I sound.

He raises an eyebrow, and Edward's eyes flick over to me. "Id that so?" Carlisle asks pleasantly. "Well, that will make my request that bit easier to swallow."

I freeze. "Your request wasn't for me to stop things with Mike?"

"Oh, no, though that would have been part of it." Carlisle smiles softly, a hint of misery in his eyes. I see the man who stitched me back together in that look; I see the acknowledgment that he will tear me apart again for his son. "I'm requesting for you to share quarters with Edward."

* * *

**What are your thoughts on this new development?**


	13. Orchard of Mines

**Title: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**Rating: T**

**Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

**Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

**Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

**Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

**Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation. Not mine, unfortunately. Boo hoo hoo.**

**Author's note: My cat tries to kill the keyboard whenever I feel like typing...bad kitty.**

* * *

When I was little, I had always wanted to have a treehouse. Some of my best memories of my family are when Charlie, Renée and I constructed one in Charlie's back yard. It was one of the few times my parents could be together without tension, the times when I could understand why they had been together long enough to have me. I understand now why it was at Charlie's house, and not in Arizona- an incentive for me to visit more often, or at least more cheerfully. It was the first time I had an idea of a hide-out, or a safe place. I didn't let anyone but my parents in there...except for Edward. It was the safest place in the world, until a storm broke it to pieces a few days after I turned fifteen. The supports had rotted away; one of the side effects of prolonged exposure to Forks weather.

That had been my place, one that I had with open arms welcomed Edward into. Now, he's welcoming me into his place, and the circumstances are so different thaitted reality bites in all over again. His place isn't safe- its the opposite of the treehouse.

I sink to my knees, and Carlisle sighs. "I did offer you a seat."

The carpet feels strange through my jeans. "No."

"What did you say?" Carlisle says, leaning back in his chair. His mouth stays in a straight line, but I can tell he hates me showing this kind of weakness. He hates that a son he chose could have this effect. A hurt ego shines through his eyes, dim and hard.

"This isn't necessary. You don't need this." I glance at Edward, and he stays silent, face impervious, a lazy satisfaction relaxing his lean body. For a crazy moment, I had thought he would defend me. I should know better. I do know better- but my reflexes don't. Nausea rises in my stomach. I'm going to be sick. "Do you like seeing me hurt?" I say, and it comes out louder than I thought it would.

Mike. Mike wouldn't stand by me, either. I never explained. I should have explained. The guilt is crippling, and I don't even know who I'm feeling it for.

Anger makes my fists tighten.

Edward raises an eyebrow. "How about it, then?" That fake smile is plastered across his face, perfect and beautiful. The sharp curve of his shoulders moves as he shrugs, avoiding the question.

I get up, feeling pathetic. "Don't make me move in."

"That's so Bella," he laughs, taking a step towards me. I tense up, and he notices. "You like talking like you're making orders, yeah? What is that, a coping mechanism? Like you have some kind of control what people do?" His eyes turn all dark again and my jaw twitches. "You couldn't control me."

Tears sting in my eyes and I wipe them away fast, hands shaking. "If this is some kind of revenge plot—"

"Revenge?" he yells, and a dead silence follows. Regret storms through me, followed closely by disgrace. "I have every right to revenge, Bella, but I'm not like you. I don't think that every single thing I do has to define me!" He steps up close, and I can feel the heat coming off his skin.

I'm going to be sick. "Get away from me."

"Or what?" he hisses, green eyes bright and confrontational. "You'll go crying to Mike?"

That stops me dead. Hot, boiling rage that I wish I never felt burns inside my head. "Don't talk about him." I don't want to even think about Mike right now. I hate Edward even saying his name; like a constant reminder of the betrayal.

"Why?" he laughs at me, goading me on. Liking the reaction he can get, just like always. "Quit telling me what to do, Bella... Is that why you two are together? Because he gets off on being submissive?" Hatred blooms in his eyes. "Is that what it's like when you fu-"

"Don't!" I shout, voice going high with fury. I shove him back by the shoulders, and his hard muscles contract as I make contact, his hands grabbing my wrists, yanking me in closer. Our hips bang together. "You can't fight," he hisses. "You're like a leaf."

My heart skips a beat in sheer panic, and I try to shake him off, twisting my arms quick so that his grasp will undo. Our eyes meet, green and brown, and for a moment I think I can beat him. I glare at him in terror and he falters, letting me free for an instant that I need to aim a kick.

A loud bang makes us both freeze. We look carefully at where Carlisle is standing. He holds a book in one hand, which I guess made the noise when he banged it against the desk. Edward lets me go, and we warily stand facing on another, avoiding looking at each other. Panting. My body is caught between anger and nausea. I need to burn these clothes. I need to take a shower for the rest of my life. I need to drink bleach to get my insides clean. I can smell him all over me.

Carlisle sucks in a breath through his nostrils, and for a moment he looks vampiric. "You will be sharing lodgings until you can be in the same room together without a fist fight breaking out. Bella, didn't your mother teach you better?" he snaps. "Don't give in to such petty remarks."

My chest feels like it could collapse. Renée. That's a low blow.

"Edward..." he curls his lip at his son's name. "Can you never understand what it means to be a Cullen?"

I feel Edward's silence through the air between us, creating a barrier between him and the rest of the room.

Carlisle pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Have neither of you grown since then? Do you insist on staying children for the rest of your lives?"

He's trying to make me feel small, but he's silly of he thinks I could feel any more tiny than I already do. "What happens...if I refuse to move in?" I ask.

Carlisle's eyes narrow. "You know that."

And once again, I'm left without a choice.

* * *

Alice's mouth drops open. "That can't be real. He can't ask you to do that."

"Well, our little display," I grimace, remembering the feel of Edward's deft fingers, "-pretty much convinced him it was necessary."

"...do you think Edward planned it that way?" Alice asks nervously, her voice going quiet as someone walks past our bench. The day is over, and the sun is still shining.

I glance at her, pushing my hair from my face. "What do you mean?"

"Well, that fight," she observes. "Edward was pushing your buttons."

"I know." I look away, ashamed. I should be able to be more...I should be better. He can goad me easily; he knows what to say, and he's been around me enough to know when something really bothers me.

"But why did you get so upset about Mike, anyway?" she asks, quizzical.

I rub my face. "I think...he and Jessica..." How do I say it? "He didn't... I don't know, Jessica came up in the conversation and he started acting...strange. He had a smell like perfume on him. And Jessica's make up... I don't know, he just...he just kept apologizing..." The betrayal feels numb, as if I don't have room for it next to all the mess with Edward.

Alice's face doesn't register much surprise. She stays quiet for a second, then shrugs. "Who needs him, anyway? You know what you actually need?"

I rub my face. "What?"

"A shopping spree!" Alice smiles wide. "This Saturday?"

She's being such a good friend. On a Saturday, I usually stick to my dorm, doing all the homework I've been assigned so that my Sundays are free. With Edward around, that'll be difficult, and a distraction will be welcome. I can do my homework during the week- it will mean hardly any time to myself, but that's better than trying to get anything done with Edward around.

I pause, realizing all my thoughts went immidiately to how this affected my time with Edward, as opposed to how it reflects on what Mike did.

"That sounds like a great idea, Ali."

Alice grins. "Okay! Girl's day out. No boys allowed."

That reminds me... "Have you talked to Jasper?"

Alice's cheeks flush, and my teeth set on edge. I'm still not sure how to take her having a relationship with Carlisle's attorney. "Well," she says. "He texted me a couple of times. You know, I think he really likes me. He's so easy to talk to." She beams.

I breath in slowly. "He'd be crazy not to, Alice. He'd be _crazy_ not to."

* * *

I go back to my dorm, and find Rosalie outside, texting furiously. When she sees me, she abruptly puts her phone away. "Don't you ever check your phone?" she yells. "Some guy just came and took all your stuff!"

"What?"

She glares. "Some guy. Had a permit. To move. Your sh-"

"I got that. Sorry." I rub my face. So I have to move in tonight. I thought I'd get a good sleep...

Rosalie balks. "So what? You're just- moving out? When did this happen?"

I'm too exhausted to fight. "I'm going to miss you, Rose," I whisper.

She hears the sincerity and looks taken aback. Understanding that I won't explain. "...does at least Alice know what this is about? You can still see me at lunch, if you ever decide to show up, you know."

I nod, ignoring the lunch comment. I went once, and once only. "Alice knows everything. She's...she suggested we went shopping this Saturday. Do you want to come along?"

Rosalie blinks, looking lost. "I...okay. Are you okay, Bella?"

I hate it when peopleask me to lie through my teeth so they can feel better. "I'm doing great, Rose. Don't worry about me. I'll text you the details about Saturday."

She nods, not quite satisfied, and we stand in the hall, neither of us sure what to do. I've lived with her for four years, on and off, and that's given us a bond, one that neither of us thought was there until it was tested.

"I'll see you around," she finally musters, scratching her cheek.

"I'll see you around," I echo.

We don't hug, but neither of us are really the type.

I realise, as I stand there, that I have no idea where I'm meant to go. "Did the man who came leave anything for me...?"

Rose blinks, coming out of her thoughts. "Oh. Yeah, actually." She steps inside our dorm and- um, her dorm, and retrieves a small package. I take it from her, and give her a wave as I turn away. "Bye!"

She waves back, and I head towards the showers, leaving the parcel unopened.

When I get to the showers, they're deserted, and I thank the Lord as I pull of my clothes, eager to wash him off under the water stream.

The hot water flows down my skin, and I try to imagine that it's acid, carving all of my life away until I'm just...me, breathing, being alive.

I shut my eyes and lean my head against the shower wall.

His face is still in my head.

A shiver of aftershock passes through me, and I finally give in to the pain in my chest. Mike's not here for me anymore. A little girl inside me is bawling her eyes out, but I won't call him, won't text him- I didn't get any of Rosalie's messages, didn't check my phone, precisely because I was avoiding any contact from him. I hate the idea that I made him do it. I thought that I knew him so well. My breaths feel heavy from water vapor, my head starting to swim.

I didn't love Mike.

The truth wells up inside like blood from a cut. I never liked himas much as he liked me, and maybe that's part of the reason why I wanted him. Because he was...easy to understand. I could manipulate him easily, and that gave me the little kick of power that I craved after the total loss of control, the helplessness from Edward. It's maybe even why I chose Mike in the first place- I'm the one who asked him out. I'm the one who started it, and I couldn't go through with it enough for him to buy it. He didn't buy that I loved him because he isn't enough of an idiot to believe that I love him.

Of course he chose Jessica. I am disgusting.

I am _disgusting_...

My chest feels hot, and I stay in place despite the fact that the water is now freezing cold.

What do I do now that I'm sleeping in the same room as Edward? I give out raw, strangled sobs, then try desperately to quench them with deep breaths. In less than a minute, he can make me lose control. I feel like a little girl. He's seen so much more than I have- and juvie must have made him tougher.

Part of me is sorry. I'm still so sorry that he can affect me, that fight...

It's dangerous for us both if I can't keep my cool for two minutes around him. I suck in a breath. I don't have anyone to protect me. I'm scared for Alice- there. I said it. I'm scared that she's getting sucked into this too quickly. Mike...he's like a treehouse. I don't have Mrs. Parsons, or Charlie, or Mr. Black, I don't even have Rosalie keeping tabs on me anymore.

I'm naked in the worst sense.

I turn the water off, and towel myself dry, reluctantly putting my dirty clothes back on. I smell them, but he's not there anymore.

My skin feels numb all over. When I look in the mirror, I see that my lips are blue. My skin looks translucent. My eyes are wild. The roots of my real hair colour are beginning to show.

A hysterical laugh comes from my lips, and I lean in, poking my reflection in the face. It bursts into a cheek-splitting grin, and then slowly fades, leaving me more drained than before.

What's waiting for me at my new room?

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	14. Breakeven

**Title: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**Rating: T**

**Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

**Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

**Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

**Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

**Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation.**

**Author's note: How is everyone feeling? The last of my exams are coming up! Ah, exciting yet scary! **

* * *

I shouldn't have stayed in the shower like that. The shivering sets in, so bad that I can barely keep hold of the package as I open it. I turn it over, letting the contents slide into my palm, closing it into a fist before I can drop it.

It's a key. The teeth bite into my fingers, cold, and my shivering increases. My teeth chatter, and I break into a run going down the hallway, checking the envelope for my new room number.

My breath comes out in labored pants, but I don't stop. If I stop, I'll never end that awful deathly shivering. I take the stairs in twos, going up the girl's dorm, my feet slipping on the steps every so often, landing me up with bruises on my shins that hurt like crazy when I get them. Every step hurts, begging for reserves of glucose that I don't have.

But I keep going, right up until I'm outside the door, and then I lean my head against it, catching my breath. Since when do I have so little energy? My head swims, and I suck in a breath, trying to stay focused. The floor shimmies from side to side underneath me, drawing nausea up my throat. My head aches frm lack of sleep.

The door opens.

Edward stares at me, hair messed up from stress. His eyes are off-guard, and he's wearing pajama bottoms and a rumpled t-shirt. Another reference to a band I don't know on it...

The light frames him, making his hair glow like a crown.

I slump, slowly falling forwards until he wraps an arm around me, pulling me inside. My shivering starts again, violent, teeth chattering.

His smell is everywhere.

I gag onto his shoulder, and he starts pulling me quickly, and then I'm in a bathroom, hurling into the toilet, gripping the bath to my right. He has his own bathroom?

I throw up again, unsure whether it's from sickness, or from his touch. There isn't much to throw up; not much in my stomach. I wind up wretching, drawing more bile up than anything else. He has me on my knees in front of the toilet, himself in the same position directly behind me. One of his arms is locked around my waist, keeping me from swaying all over the place, and the other around my hair.

I cough up whatever else I have left and then try to pull away, my cheeks feeling hot. Edward puts his hand on my forehead and my breath snags. His stomach is pressed against my back and we're touching. Touching!

"You're burning up," he says, all quiet. "Not surprising, is it?"

I lean back against the bath, pulling out of his pose. I curl up and put my head between my legs, calming myself down with furious inhales through my Jose, timed exhales out of my mouth. In with the good air, out with the bad. In with the good air...

I can't even concentrate on that without feeling sick.

He's opposite me. "Your fingers are blue, Bella. Why? You look like a stick. Why?"

I kick out with my foot, catching him on the knee with hardly any force, hating that the answer to every question is always him. I'm like an idiot, running in circles. Why did I have to get sick here?

Disgusting.

There's that word again...

"Did you really think that juvie meant you'd never see me again?" Edward says quietly, leaning in to touch my hair. I shrink back. He's taller than me; we used to be the same height, with only a tiny difference in our lanky weight, same red gleam in our hair, same skin, same shoe size... It was never strange to me. It was never weird that we were alike, because...it was Edward. We were made to fit.

But we don't anymore, do we? We grew up. His feet kept growing; his body kept growing, he looks like he could lift me with one hand, and our hair...

I raise my head, and he's still looking at my hair, eyes lost. He's thinking the same as I am.

"You dyed it." He mutters, looking away. "Mike ask you to do that?"

I flinch. "'ward..." I rub my face, trying to suppress my shudders.

We stare at each other as the light fades, neither of us wanting to move first. His face transforms in the darkness; becoming an abstract jigsaw of features.

Can he put all the pieces of himself back together?

Something digs inside my mind. I swallow, and taste my mouth. Grimace.

As the darkness veils us, it begins to mask our differences. All the physical trademarks vanish one by one, until I'm left with green, cat-like eyes in a forest of shadow. The white, gleaming walls of the bathroom glow like ghosts.

"What was it like?" I whisper, trying to pretend that it's just Bells and 'Ward again.

His smooth voice is more noticeable when I can't see him. "Which part?"

"Juvie." I try to fathom an expression from the green orbs across from me.

He stretches out his arms; taking more space than he used to. "...don't ask dumb questions, Bella."

My chest tightens. "Listen-"

"What?" he snarls, that smooth voice thickening and growing hoarse. Part of me wants him to keep talking like that— it's...strangely appealing. The temperature has dropped again, and my heart shakes inside my chest.

Thank God I know how to cry without making any noise. "Are you ever going to go by Edward Masen?"

There's a shocked pause. "I guess you especially..." he whispers. "...wouldn't think of me as a Cullen."

"Carlisle's going through a lot to clear your name," I mutter, more bitter than I thought I would sound.

"Do you really think that's purely out of love, Bella? Carlisle works on honor and connections. If he loses one, he loses the other, and if I get in the way of that..." A short laugh rings through the air, sharp and hard. A long silence breaks out, and he attempts to rekindle the conversation, the green orbs moving closer. His perfect lips tilt upwards at the corners, mocking. "Is Mike going to have a problem with this?"

I shudder. "He's not going to know."

"Is that so?" Edward deadpans, the soft edge of his voice getting a little brittle.

"He'd tell Jessica," I mutter. "And she would tell...everyone. I don't want everyone to think I'm some kind of harlot." The archaic word feels strangely appropriate. "It'd be bad if the press got wind that your _old flame_ was just an idiot with boobs, right?"

"Or, they could hear we've been in love for four years of painful separation, and only now do we get to fulfill the life-long wish of being able to live together." His voice says it in such a calm way, telling me a story, weaving it into the dark like a nightmare. "The charges against me, your accusations, were in a fit of guilt from what happened, but now you're over-wrought. I, of course, am just happy I can finally be with you."

Manipulative, and cold, and efficient.

"I'm not telling Mike that I'm living with you," I say through clenched teeth.

"Bella." He leans in, warmth emanating from his skin like a separate creature. "You got what you wanted. Four years of my life. Now, I get..." He leans closer, until his lips are almost tasting my neck, and I'm frozen in place with nowhere to hide. "Now, I get you," he states simply against my flesh, the prominent artery in my throat. "You'll do it, Bella."

"Why would I?" I say, trying to back away. The bath is directly behind me. I can't.

"Because you're like me. You're jealous, Bella. What did it feel like, to realise he could throw you under the bus like that? You're angry, guilty, you hate your rival, just want to see them hurt... It's not fair that you have to feel like this all the time," he whispers, in a heated caramel voice. "We can help each other, here. I'll make sure Jessica doesn't utter a sound..." he murmurs, tone as soft as silk.

"And in exchange?" I breathe, his scent filling my lungs.

"You let me have Mike," he says. I feel his hair brush my jaw, and he rests with his face tucked into my shoulder, his own forming a muscled arch around me. He says it so casually, as if it means nothing.

My heart stutters. "No."

He feels the change in the air, the tightness in my tone.

It's exhausting to have to stand up, and I search for my bed in the main room. "Where...?"

He step ahead of me. "It's just down the hallway." I let him go a few more steps before rushing away, back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it.

He doesn't have time to stop me, and has better sense than to make a racket by trying to get the door open.

I breath hard, staring at the locked door.

Warmth. I need warmth. I open up a basket beside the bath, taking out towels, lining the bath with a few and then clambering inside. It's a lot bigger than what I'm used to- I can lie down in it.

Was this made for Edward?

I push the curtain rail closed and lie in my cocoon of laundered towels and porcelain.

Edward 1, Bella 1.


	15. I Want To Break Free

**Title: The Lion Tamer**

**Author: Lile**

**Rating: T**

**Characters/Pairings: Edward, Bella.**

**Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...I have no idea.**

**Short summary: Bella Swan's life was turned upside down from her past experiences with a velvet-voiced boy. Four years later, the trauma is still very real, but only the estranged pair seem to understand how deep it cuts.**

**Any warnings: Edward and Bella are both pretty dark in this story. I will try to be as delicate with the subject matter as I can, and I'm sorry if it offends or disturbs anyone. I am a believer in happy endings, don't fret...**

**Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's creation. **

**Author's note: it's been a while since I last updated! Sorry.**

**What happened last time?: Bella has been blackmailed into living with Edward. This is her first night...**

* * *

I don't sleep.

Neither does Edward.

If this was a romance novel, it would be because we just can't stop longing to be in eachother's arms.

But this is us, so it's because I can't stop trying to analyse everything he's done since he arrived, and he...I don't know. I can never read him, never could. There was a time when I thought I could understand him like my own mind, but those days are long gone. Even remembering them has the feel of remembering an old cartoon; cute, finite, discontinued.

All night, I can hear him stop-and-starting at the piano. He's trying to play Claire de Lune, but his fingers have no experience, so he just painstakingly presses each note one after the other.

It was the first piece I ever played that I loved; he's trying to make me love him for trying it. All he does, though, is splay it out, making each note lonely and stupid inside that isolation of five-second gaps.

Edward is great at ruining things that I love.

Should I be trying to play this differently? Should I pretend to be brave? Should I face him?

If I did that, what on earth could I say? I stare at the mirror above the sink in the bathroom that I have locked myself in, wishing I knew what time it is. Three am? Eleven pm? Am I minutes from sunrise or hours away?

My reflection mouths words, but I can't bring myself to say anything out loud. What could I possibly talk about to get him to leave me alone?

"Edward," I tell the mirror. The syllables threaten to stab me in half, but I keep talking. "Edward, Anthony..." I hesitate. "... Edward Anthony..."

I have no idea why Harry Potter is swirling around in my brain. Do all bookworms seek solace from books in times of great distress, or is it just me? I can hear words from the series floating around the air.

My fingers tighten on the edge of the sink.

"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself," I scold myself, feeling more scared that ridiculous, so it's okay. "Edward. Anthony." I gulp in air, trying not to hear the notes he keeps playing. He's destroying it. I'm so tired, yet so awake. "Edward..." I have to focus. His name is not frightening. I am strong.

I'm such a bad liar, but I'm so scared, and I'm not strong at all.

"Edward." I grit my teeth and imagine J.K. Rowling. I imagine my mother- no, that hurts- I imagine Alice Brandon. She's strong. "Anthony." I imagine Wonder Woman. "Mason." They're strong. Say it. Bella, you've done it, do it again. "Cullen."

My reflection stares back at me.

Such a tiny victory, but it feels amazing.

I said it all.

Like, in a row, his entire name.

I grin at the mirror like a total fool, and for an untamed minute I feel like I'm finally starting to climb the mountain that is made of my problems.

This is what beginnings feel like. I am not the girl who can't say his name his name anymore.

This is progress.

Eventually, the buzzing in my ears fade, and I'm forced to listen to his awful mangled music, but there's still the buzz of victory in my ears. No matter that it's small- I haven't felt anything like it for a very long time, and it sticks out in my mind like a neon sign in the desert. _This way, folks. Step right up_.

* * *

"Why is there a twig in your hair?"

I glance at Alice. We're at the back of the class, but it's still unusual for her to talk to me during lectures. Maybe she's trying to make sure I don't fall asleep. The bags under my eyes are hard to ignore. "Hm?"

She grins and closes the space between us, plucking it out. "You had a twig in your hair, doofus."

Right. Twig. Hair. Doofus. It's taking me ages to convert what she says into brain information. "That's weird." It's not weird. I climbed out the bathroom window to get out of Edward's suite.

I hope he needed the bathroom the whole time I was in there. I hope it was really annoying and he was bursting to go and had to resort to doing a little dance to take his mind off it.

My petty vengeance never fails to amaze me.

She drops it, raising an eyebrow, speaking lower. "I take it you and Mike made up, then?" Her voice isn't too pleased.

Huh?

"Can we do the difficult questions at lunch?" I say, rubbing my face. Mike is a whole other kind of headache. If I was a melodramatic person, I'd clutch my hair and fall to my knees and cry WHY MUST ALL THE BOYS I CRUSH ON TURN OUT BADLY, but hey, I'm so tired, and I think I'm losing it a tiny bit. Titchy witchy widdle bit. Widdle...is wee...Edward should never wee again in his life. Ever.

She groans. "Seriously?" Her dark hair is spiked again, almost totally out, and it suits her so well.

I nod. "Yes. One, I have no idea what the hell is going on in my brain, and two, I think you need to explain what you just asked over food. I'm hungry."

She grins. "Seriously?" Her tone is such a stark contrast that I almost feel bad about lying.

"Oh, yeah," I say, lying, because I'm a lying liar that lies. My appetite hasn't lifted it's little head since...um. Since...was it the night I got drunk? Before? Living with Edward, it feels like I'll never eat again.

* * *

_"Edward!" I'm screaming, clutching my stomach. Pain roars inside, like a blustering storm designed to agonise my body. _

_The forest is almost totally unoccupied, and I hear birds, and I wish I was them so I wouldn't have to feel this way. My insides feel fragile. Everything about me feels so breakable, and I hate it. I'm not like this. It's so hard to be wild when I feel as if I'm dying, leaning against the car he stole, my heart ready to overheat and kill me on the inside. I stare at him, white cheeks, white eyes, white shaking fingers._

_He has a snarl on his face, but it turns into a look of desperation as my head falls, trying_ _to hide tears. "No!" He grabs my face and makes me look at him, breathing hard. His cheeks are red, and he keeps making sure I don't look down, and his whole body is shivering hard enough to make all his pieces shudder apart. And we're not beautiful now; we're nothing but desperate. "How bad does it hurt?" he asks fervently. He looks crazy. My pain is driving him crazy. In my haze of agony, it's not comforting. It's scaring the life out of me. What the hell is happening to me? Why is he going crazy?_

_I'm so alone. I never pictured this, but even as he clutches my face and kisses me and cries, tears matching mine, I feel alone, and isolated, and just like my father must have done when he realised that my mother was dead._

_Everyone always liked to comment that we were so much like each other. Now, it's in another way, one that's slowly creeping in on me._

_"Bella!" he's yelling, but his voice is hoarse, like he's been doing that for a while._

_His eyes are narrowed, mouth narrower, crueler. It looks like he could hurt me. I feel like the whole universe could hurt me._

_It has._

_It took my mother. It ruined my father. Now it's my turn._

_Edward shoves me into the car's back seat. His hands are gentle on my shoulders, on my hips, but the car seat is not as forgiving._

_My body starts to shake, and my vision starts to flicker. It feels like I'm going to do something awful, like have a stroke or haemorrhage or faint._

_This can't be real!_

_I'm fourteen, and this CAN. NOT. BE. Happening!_

* * *

The lunch table I've gotten used to occasionally sitting at is already brimming with people -by my standards- by the time I arrive. Rosalie, Alice, and Mike are in their seats, peaceably chatting with someone I vaguely recognise, but can't place.

I get a tray of food- water bottle, a bowl of soup, and an apple. The very weight of the tray as I head to the table is strangely daunting. Can I just drop it, and say it was by accident, and then be 'too embarrassed' to go back for more food? Is that legitimate?

The smell of steaming tomato soup wafts into my nostrils and I decide it's okay to have a few bites.

I sometimes wonder if I don't eat because of control freak issues, or if it's because I'm territorial about my stomach. Or are that's the same problem in different disguises?

The chatter drops in volume when I sit down, as far away from Mike as I can, which is thankfully next to Alice, but also the guy I can't quite place.

"Hi, guys," I say.

Rosalie eyes my tray. "Hey, Bella," she grins, then spots my eyes. "Good Lord. If you really can't sleep well without me in the same room, you should just move back in."

I nod, feeling like my brain is a blank sheet. "Yes." I eat a spoon of soup- drink a spoon of soup to get people to stop looking at me. Why did I pick the exact food I don't know the verb for? Is it drinking or eating? Mmph.

"So you're Bella," says Mister Mysterious.

Rosalie starts chatting with Alice, their conversation veering in fifty different ways. Mike is staring at me with a face like a kicked puppy. I feel so bad. Why? Why do I always feel bad?

I look at the guy beside me, who just spoke, because manners indicate that it's a good idea. I try to smile. He's cute- and not in an adorable way. His hair is dark, lightened from exposure to the sun, and I could fit my fingers in his dimples, which cast his sharp jaw into a more playful light. He's wearing a plain t-shirt under a button-down Aztec patterned sweater, and low-slung jeans that aren't too low, or skinny. His eyes are light blue, and I've always been a sucker for those. I notice that he's wearing a digital watch, and there's a tattoo snaking out from where his tee has been ridden up, not quite meeting his jeans. I have a good history with tattooed people. My mother had one; a heart made of her fingerprint crossed over mine, just over her heart. Rosalie has one- a treble note crossed with a yin and yang on her side.

He's someone I wouldn't mind getting to know.

Hey. I'm thinking like a normal girl.

"Yeah, I'm Bella," I smile. "You look kind of familiar."

If I keep talking to him, I don't have to eat.

He looks at me, the corner of his mouth curling up a little. "My name is Peter," he says, taking my hand, even though I didn't offer it. He holds it gently, and he's so warm, not like the tiles of Edward's bathroom. "You've got a great name," he adds.

"You should hear my phone number," I grin, and I swear that every jaw except his and mine drop. I don't think they understand how desperate I am to surround myself with people who make me feel normal. Silly.

That, or I'm tired enough to hit on someone in front of Mike because I'm a bad person.

Mike.

Mike.

My confidence crumbles again. Crap. Well, I'm making an impression, because he raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Oh yeah? I have just the thing."

He turns away from me, and I spot another tattoo peaking up at the back of his neck. Or maybe it's just one, massive tattoo. At first I'm confused, and I glance at Alice, who has a weird mix of pride and confusion on her face, at Rosalie, who looks like she just choked on a frog's toenail, and Mike, who's just eating his meal with his head down until Tyler joins us and they start talking very loudly and Peter turns back to me with a Sharpie in his hand. He holds it out, and I take it, letting our fingers brush.

I feel the touch all the way down, like a thawing potion I've been dying for.

"What's this for?" I ask, smiling at him, liking the giddy rush of the unknown that this fills me with. I'm flirting. Holy crap! I should be exhausted more often!

Or maybe I'm just being desperate and selfish by reeling him in. I'm still a bad person, and his smiles make me forget, but I still feel it.

He rolls his sleeve up, shrugging. "Mark yourself down, Bella," he grins. "Otherwise I'll forget you."

It's so blatantly a dare. The same buzzy courage of the mirror session last night fills me and I wrap my fingers around his arm, pulling it closer, and if he stretched his fingers could touch my hip. I glance up, and our eyes meet. Blue and brown.

Peter doesn't move as I press the tip of the marker onto the air over his skin, his perfect skin, with freckles here and there that look like constellations I want to map out.

"Are you sure?" I glance up at him.

"Yeah," he says, expression relaxed, so I scrawl my name in my best hand writing, suddenly paranoid I'll mix up the five letters and write lleba or Balel or something by accident. His arm is skin and muscle, easy to write on. I write my number underneath, and put the cap back on the marker.

I've marked him. It feels good. He gave me the power the change the smallest thing about him, and it's more than most people give me their entire lives. I hold the marker out to him, a shy smile keeping my cheeks tugged apart. He grins, and then takes hold of my outstretched wrist instead. Pushes the sleeve up, his fingers ready to take the black marker, my number branded on his skin, exposing my upturned wrist to the open air.

The whole table goes quiet and my heart sinks. Evaporates.

They can all see the scars.

I'm such a waste of space.

I'm such a waste of ink.

So embarrassed. Humiliated. Frozen.

Peter's smile fades, and I shut my eyes, trying to breathe. Open my eyes and shove my chair back. "I'm not hungry," I mumble. When I walk away, no one tries to stop me.

I feel Alice's hand on my elbow, guiding me to the girl's toilets.

"Come on," she says quietly, lifting my arm up and rolling down my sleeve. "Talk to me, Bells." She wraps her arms around me and I hug her back, tight, my eyes filling. I blink away the tears, shaking my head.

"He was cute, right?" I say.

She nods. "He has your number," she pulls away, smiles, taps me under the jaw. "A hot boy has your phone number. Screw Edward. Screw Mike. You're still totally attractive."

"If you like self-harmers," I hiss under my breath.

She shakes her head. "Don't even. I know how a fact you haven't cut anytime recently."

I raise my eyebrows. "Ahuh."

She smiles. "All of those scars are old, Bella. Okay? I saw your arm and I was proud of you because I know you haven't cut again."

My chest inflates a little. I smile at her. "I haven't." It's true. I haven't. That's something, even if it doesn't erase the fact that Peter is probably regretting having me write on him.

She beams, and sits on the sink beside me, her head still not over mine. Her height is ridiculously short. "By the way, how was your first night with Edward?"

I shrug, staring at the stall opposite us. "I locked myself in the bathroom. He played piano all night, and I didn't fall asleep. So...in the morning, I climbed out the window, and that's probably when I got a twig in my hair." I run my hands through it, nervous.

Alice grins. "I hope he pooped himself."

A giggle tumbles from my lips. "And peed himself. And vomited. But not on the piano."

"On his shoes," Alice adds.

"Yes!" I grin at her, and she wraps an arm around me.

"Don't worry about Peter," she commands. "If he's as worthy as he is hot, he'll call you."

I rub my face. "What about Mike? We still haven't talked. I've been ignoring his calls and texts. I'm not sure whether to talk to him, but I don't want to hurt him. More. Even lunch with Peter... Well, never mind that now."

She shakes her head. "Did you hear the sass you talked at lunch?" she asks me fiercely, eyes sparking. "That's the Bella Swan I know. You're killer, Bella, and I think you should just drop what makes you unhappy so you can be that girl, especially people like Mike, when you have Edward to deal with. Besides, I'm pretty sure that you turning down Peter WHEN he calls can be considered a crime against girl kind."

I let my head fall back, listening to her. "You know what, Alice?" I mutter.

"What?" she says, curious.

"If I batted for the other team," I say, "we would be in business." I give her a big hug and she hugs me back, the added height given to her by sitting on the snk meaning that I can rest my head on her shoulder and breathe in the scent of jasmine and Alice. "How is Jasper?" I ask carefully.

She shrugs, tapping a sequence onto my back, before I step away and stretch my arms out. Her cheeks are red, and she looks down, happy; shy. "We've been talking more. He hasn't asked me out, or anything, but he's really sweet..."

I smile at her. "If he's giving up time to be with you- especially with his busy job- that must mean he likes you."

And that's a problem.

Its a massive problem, because he's the Cullen's lawyer, and if he uses Alice against herself, I'll have to maim and severly injure him. What if he hurts her?

I can't let that happen, at any cost.

* * *

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